Caleb was in the eastern archive when I found him.
The heavy door shut behind me with a low thud that echoed off the stone walls. The room always felt colder than the rest of the fortress, as if the north wind had found a permanent way in. I crossed the floor, my boots quiet on the flagstones, until I stood on the opposite side of the long reading table.
He didn’t look up right away. He kept his eyes on the open document in front of him, the way you look at something you already know by heart. Only when I stopped did he finally close it.
“You touched it,” he said.
“Yeah. I did.”
He walked around the table, pulled out a chair for himself, then reached over and dragged the one across from him out a little. An invitation, but not a warm one. I sat down anyway.
Caleb folded his hands on
