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Darian returns on a rain-soaked evening in late autumn.
I'm in the great hall, reviewing agricultural reports with Morwen, when the horns sound from the watchtower. Three long blasts. The signal for a returning expedition. I'm on my feet before the echoes fade.
The courtyard is already filling with people. Children run from the fountain, their games forgotten. Keepers emerge from the lower levels. Guards line the walls. The main gates swing open, and through them, in the gray light of a storm-heavy dusk, they come.
Darian rides at the head of the column.
He looks different. Harder, in some ways — the months in the wilderness have carved new lines into his face, added new scars to his arms. But his ember eyes are brighter than I've ever seen them. He rides tall in the saddle, his d
