Outside, the wind howled. It sounded like packs of wolves racing around the library. Mykal shivered, thankful he was inside and warm.
Anna prepared noodle soup in a chicken broth. It cooked in a cauldron on the fire. The woman was awake, wrapped tightly in Mykal’s cloak. She sat in a chair beside the hearth, watching everyone closely, but had not yet said a word.
Blodwyn paced back and forth. It unnerved Mykal, but he remained quiet. He stood by one of the stained-glass windows. The reds and greens, yellows and blues made it near impossible to see outside. Mykal didn’t need a full moon and clear glass to know the falling flakes accumulated.
When Mykal walked over to the cauldron, the woman eyed him up and down. He offered up a smile she ignored. Anna had made it clear no one would ask q
