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him. How many times had he seen him on this
chair, at the head of this mighty table, which
had once seated some of the finest lords and
warriors in Adarlan?
Now it lay empty, a husk of what might
have been.
“You walk,” his father said, scanning him
from head to toe. His attention lingered on the
hand Chaol still kept clasped around Yrene’s.
Oh, he’d surely bring that up soon enough.
When it would strike deepest. “Last I heard,
you could not so much as wiggle your toe.”
“It is thanks to this woman,” Chaol said.
Yet Yrene stared at his father with a coldness
Chaol had never glimpsed before. As if she
were thinking of rotting his organs from the
inside out. It warmed Chaol enough to say,
“My wife. Lady Yrene Towers Westfall.”
A kernel of surprise lit his father’s face,
but swiftly vanished. “A healer, then,” he