Chapter 11

Mirror Lake's chill and Asher's last, broken call fell behind us. Kane kept my hand in his without urging or speech, leading me through snow-bright pines, away from lanterns and familiar scents—into the wild that seemed to answer to him. We didn't stop until a windless cliff shouldered above the valley. Below, the North slept. The main keep was a smudge in moonlight, far and small. He let go, shrugged off a gray wolf-pelt cloak, and set it around my shoulders, warm from his body, snow-cedar...