SKYE'S POV
The morning air of late spring carried a crisp, rejuvenating sharpness that chased away the last lingering ghosts of the long, brutal winter. Down in the valley, the high meadows had completely shed their white mantles, bursting into an exuberant expanse of green grass, wild mustard flowers, and the pale, nodding heads of alpine lilies. The melt-water raced down the carved stone channels of the upper terraces, roaring with a healthy, natural energy that vibrated faintly through the foundations of the ancient fortress itself.
I stood by the open casement of our private chambers, letting the fresh mountain breeze wash over my face. My fingers rested lightly against the smooth timber sill, feeling the subtle, rhythmic pulse of the basalt beneath my palms. The amber core behind my
