"You have lost your father's lands." Your name is bad luck. Your sword can still serve the Crown.
Blackclaw Captain of the Guard Drystan said. A couple of his troops waited on the castle side of the portcullis, separating us. Only this small, nervous group remained when Thorne and the other guards left. On the damaged bridge, Frostfang skyriders watched like hawks. Standing next to her horse, she stared at Rowan and me without speaking. She let Blackclaws talk.
I saw Caelan breathing hard and clutching his sword next to me. He heard Drystan chatting. The offer hung in the cold, dusty hall at the keep's entryway.
Drystan continued: "The King needs skilled men, not just those who are born into it." "Do not do that. Promise the girl's magic made you do it. Ten years in southern border jail
