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her companions had gone for a reprieve.
“Father,” Chaol said, falling into step
beside him.
Yrene said nothing, monitoring Chaol’s
movements. The pain in his back had to be
great, if he was limping this deeply, even
while her magic refilled. She had no idea
where he’d left his chair—if it had been
crushed under falling debris. She prayed it had
not.
His father snapped, “You fail to wake me
when the Queen of Terrasen arrives at my
castle?”
“It wasn’t a priority.” Chaol halted before
the door that opened into the small chamber
that had been vacated for the queen and
knocked.
A grunt was the only confirmation before
Yrene’s husband shouldered open the door
enough to poke his head inside. “My father,”