The snow had begun to melt around the borders of Aeldor, revealing dark, slushy ground and the first green shoots of spring. Yet within the fortress walls, the cold lingered like an unwelcome guest. Kaelin stood on the balcony of her quarters, arms crossed, the wind tugging her hair loose from its braid.
Below her, the training grounds buzzed with activity. Warriors sparred with renewed vigor, their shouts echoing through the mountain stronghold. But Kaelin's gaze was fixed beyond the stone walls, to the horizon where the forest bled into the misty edges of the southern realm. Trouble brewed there. The Council's message had arrived two days ago, sealed in black wax—the color of mourning.
A king had died. Not Theron. Not yet. But someone else. A southern monarch with deep alliances and da
