few decades. Or would be, if Chaol became as
soulless and cold as the man before them.
She didn’t know how he did it. How Chaol
managed to lower his head in a bow.
“Father.”
Chaol had never been ashamed of the keep
until he’d walked through it with Yrene. Had
never realized how badly it needed repairs,
how neglected it had been.
The thought of her, so full of light and
warmth, in this bleak place made him want to
run back to the ruk waiting on the parapets
and fly to the coast again.
And now, at the sight of her before his
father, who had not bothered to rise from his
chair, whose half-eaten dinner lay discarded
before him, Chaol found his temper in need of
a short leash.
His father’s fur-lined cloak pooled around