I wake to a distant horn and the muted rumble of rogues pacing the watchtower halls. Pale, narrow ribbons of gold sliced into a stone-walled chamber with the first light of morning, casting a thin veil over the floor's rough hewn surface. Each muscle quakes9 the ghost of a scream, every bruise sings its name. Yet one burning question remains in my mind: Kael. I slip off the pallet I share with him to tiptoe across the dormitory, the temperature ice enough to make my arms tingle.
He's asleep on a cot across the room, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly with big, slow breaths. There's a vicious slash on his ribs, bandaged and aching. I remember the crack of his ribs as they crumpled under the iron gauntlet of Blackfang. My throat tightens. I have to see him — I have to feel him breathe, feel him live, know he is here with me.
