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At his side, Yrene wrapped her fingers
around Chaol’s and squeezed. He hadn’t
realized how cold, how trembling, his hand
had become until her warmth seeped into him.
Because the intended target of that enemy
army now marching to the northwest ...
Anielle.
“Your father has not kneeled to Morath,”
Hasar mused, flicking her heavy braid over
the shoulder of her embroidered sky-blue
jacket. “It must make Erawan nervous enough
that he saw the need to send such an army to
crush it.”
Chaol swallowed the dryness in his mouth.
“But Erawan has already sacked Rifthold,” he
said, pointing to the capital on the coast, then
dragging a finger inland along the Avery. “He
controls most of the river. Why not send the
witches to sack it instead? Why not sail right
up the Avery? Why take an army so far to the