1564024802

tell the other healers.
He prayed they’d be swift enough, prayed
that he could figure out what the hell to say to
his father, after the oath he’d broken, after all
that lay between them. And more than that,
what he’d say to his mother, and the not-so-
young brother he’d left behind when he’d
chosen Dorian over his birthright.
Chaol had given Yrene the title owed to her
in marrying him: Lady Westfall.
He wondered if he could stomach being
called Lord. If it mattered at all, given what
bore down upon the city on the Silver Lake.
If it would matter at all if they didn’t make
it in time.
Sartaq braced a hand on the hilt of his
sword. “Hold the defenses for as long as you
can, Lord Westfall. The ruks will be a day or
so behind you, the foot soldiers a week behind
that.”