Shadow capered and danced, toothed and ragged, from torches placed on the walls of Malcolm's single rooms high in the mountains. Within, there was damp stone and woodsmoke scent, refuge from shrieking winds keening out into passes away.
Malcolm was at the other end of the long wooden table, his cold, hard eyes searching through papers and graphs laid out before him. His men were statues, awaiting a word from him. They had failed him once already—had let Nadia get away from them—and he did not want them to fail him a second time.
The tread of a hasty step from the corridor behind. One of his veteran soldiers, Garrick, appeared, inclining his head respectfully as he spoke."My Lord," replied Garrick, his voice expressionless. "Your wife is here to see you."
Malcolm's eyes expanded with som
