The morning after the feast dawned grey and cold, as all northern mornings did. I woke in my chambers, the warmth of the furs a comfort against the chill that seeped through even the thickest stone walls. For a moment, I simply lay there, letting the memories of the previous night wash over me—the music, the laughter, the feel of Kaelen's hand on my waist as we danced.
But the moment of peace was short-lived.
An urgent knocking at my door shattered the quiet. I rose, wrapping a fur around my shoulders, and opened it to find a young page, his face pale with something that looked like fear.
"The Duke summons you to the council chamber, my lady. Immediately. There's news from the watchtowers."
My blood ran cold.
I dressed quickly, pulling on my warmest wool and the leather that had become my second skin. Runa's braid was already on my wrist—I had not taken it off since she gave it to me. I fastened it securely and hurried through the corridors, my heart pounding with each step.
