She’d forgotten how damn cold it was in the
North.
Even while living amongst the ruk riders in
the Tavan Mountains, Nesryn Faliq had never
been this frozen through.
And winter had not fully descended.
Yet Salkhi showed no hint that the cold
affected him as they rushed over cloud and
sea. But that might also be because Kadara
flew beside him, the golden ruk unfaltering in
the bitter wind.
A soft spot—her ruk had developed a soft
spot and an undimming admiration for
Sartaq’s mount. Though Nesryn supposed the
same could be said about her and the ruk’s
rider.
Nesryn tore her eyes from the swirling gray
clouds and glanced to the rider at her left.
His shorn hair had grown out—barely. Just
enough to be braided back against the wind.
lily
(lily)
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