CHAPTER 46:
The first frost of autumn dusted the ridge at dawn, turning the grass white and sharpening the air until it stung the lungs. I stood on the western battlement, watching the valley wake—smoke curling from a hundred hearths, the lowing of cattle drifting up from the lower pastures, children’s voices carrying clear across the stone. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. And that was the problem.
Kael stepped up beside me, his breath pluming white, his brow furrowed as he scanned the empty pass below. “Three days late,” he said quietly. “The southern delegates were supposed to arrive by sunset yesterday. Something is wrong.”
“Maybe weather,” I said, though I didn’t believe it. “Maybe they were delayed crossing the river.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe they never left their camp at all.”
