The embers in the hearth popped, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls of the high turret. For months, the world had been defined by the smell of iron, smoke, and the constant, suffocating dread of the siege. But here, high above the desperate scrambling of the Blackwood courtyard, the air smelled only of cedarwood and the sharp, clean scent of the mountain wind.Ramond did not look like a commander who had just driven a ruthless enemy from the northern perimeter. His heavy, iron-studded leather armor was gone, left in a heap by the heavy oak door. He stood in a simple dark tunic, the fierce, wild blue of his eyes softened by the flickering firelight."The elders are furious," Lizzie murmured, her voice barely louder than the crackle of the flames. She sat on the rough-hewn ru
