face was somber.
Aelin nodded toward the tent flaps. “It’s
snowing.”
“It’s been snowing with little rest for days
now.”
Aelin’s swallow was audible. “It’s a
northern snow.”
The storm slammed into the camp, so fierce
that Nesryn and Sartaq had given the ruks
orders to hunker down for the day and night.
As if crossing into Terrasen days earlier
had officially put them into brutal winter.
“We keep going north,” Kashin was saying,
lounging by the fire in Hasar’s sprawling tent.
“Like there is another option,” Hasar
snipped, sipping from her mulled wine.
“We’ve come this far. We might as well go all
the way to Orynth.”
Nesryn, seated on a low sofa with Sartaq,