Nova didn’t sleep that night.
She paced the east tower long after the rest of Thornhaven had gone quiet, her bare feet whispering over the cold stone floor. The war council had ended hours ago. The alliances were forming. The houses were aligned behind Cassia.
But her mother’s heart was uneasy.
Cassia had spoken with the voice of a queen. Of a visionary. Of a warrior. She had stood before ancient houses and not flinched. She had owned her fire. Claimed her legacy. Inspired even the cold-blooded Kaelen Velstra to ride with them.
But Nova couldn’t shake the image of her daughter as a baby, wrapped in silk, eyes glowing, her cries little more than warm steam in the winter air.
Now that baby stood at the center of a war that Nova had spent half her life trying to outrun.
“She’s stronger
