SKYE'S POV
The transition from a state of war to a state of peace was not a sudden silence, but a change in the frequency of the noise.
For three weeks, the high corridors of Nighthaven did not echo with the clatter of armored guards or the frantic shouts of messengers. Instead, they rang with the steady, rhythmic scrape of trowels, the heavy thud of timber being laid for new barracks in the lower quarters, and the high, bright laughter of children who no longer had to keep their voices hushed in the presence of the high-born.
The Great Hall, once a dark cavern of cold stone and heavy silence, had been transformed. The long, narrow tables where the Council had once sat in rigid hierarchy had been broken down and rebuilt into wide, circular tables of light pine, matching the new philosop
