Moonrise Hall stood alone on a ridge of white stone two hours north of Shadowfang, neutral ground for five hundred years. Ariana saw it first through the windshield and thought, absurdly, of a wedding cake. Pale columns. A roof of silver slate. A staircase that climbed to doors carved with every phase of the moon.
Since the fang, she had stopped asking questions and started watching. Kael had lifted it from her pillow with a handkerchief and a face like stone, and when she had asked who, he had said only, “I cannot,” and she had seen what the word cost him.
Now he walked beside her up the white steps in a black coat, jaw set, wearing the look of a man going to his own hanging. Dax and Mira flanked them.
“Say nothing unless they ask,” he murmured without moving his lips. “Answer plainly.
