There is something in the wind when foul fortune is pending. Dogs are made uneasy with it. Cats will coil themselves into watchful balls before the fire when they sense it. And I, too, since my burn was inflicted, feel it in the wound.
Indeed, I began to itch with it as soon as we crossed the threshold of Ravensmuir. I was certain that I was watched, that some hungry gaze kept vigil over me. It was an eerie sensation and made the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.
I attributed it, though, to Ada’s sour welcome and refused to bend to her malicious will.
The great hall was cold and barren, not so much as a candle lit within its echoing expanse, and it seemed to me to be haunted by Merlyn. He must have stayed here recently, if not several nights past, and the yawning emptiness of the ke
