Helena would go south. Run away and follow the river from the mountains all the way to the sea and sail home.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and found a necrothrall waiting, all the amber lights already aglow. Ferron’s wordless reminder that she could do nothing and go nowhere without his knowledge.
She swallowed hard, letting go of the fantasy. She would die in Spirefell.
The rooms on the main floor flowed from one to the next. Spirefell seemed to have more rooms than the Ferrons had ever known what to do with.
“Come back here, I’m not done with you.” A harsh voice made Helena freeze before she realised it was not directed at her.
“There’s nothing more to say,” came Ferron’s voice. “I’m not interested.”
“Don’t walk away from me! Disobey me and I’ll have you disowned, your name
