The bitter mountain wind screamed through the high stone arrow slits, dusting the flagstones of the High Pinnacle with fresh, powdery snow.
Inside the shelter of the arched stone stairwell just below the open battlement, Elara knelt beside the unconscious sovereign. She wore her fitted black wool tunic, cinched tight with a leather tool harness across her ribs, and her pine-green traveling cloak lay bunched beneath King Kaelen’s head to shield his frosted brow from the freezing rock. Her dark hair, damp from melting hail, hung in a loose braid over her shoulder. Her breath puffed in rapid, steady plumes of white mist as her hands moved over the bronze surgical case open beside her knees.
Kaelen lay stretched out upon the cold steps, his massive frame shivering under a deep, unnatural chi
