The first light came grey and thin over the ridge, and the watch house smelled of cold ash and wet wool. Kaelen had not slept. Rowan could see it in the set of his shoulders as he knelt beside the iron-banded chest in the room behind the ledgers, a knife in one hand and the seal cord in the other.
"Stand back," he said, though no one had moved closer.
Bran held the lantern. "I've guarded a lot of doors," he said. "None of them had riddles behind them."
Alder stood by the door with his arms folded. Maren had stayed in the yard with her three riders, and Rowan had not asked her to come in. She was not sure she wanted to know what Maren's face would do when the lid lifted.
The seal was the Blackthorn wax, dark red and pressed with the wolf's head. Kaelen turned the cord over in his finger
