He appeared older than he should have been after three weeks.As Cole got up from his table and moved toward them across the common area with a cautious stiffness that hadn't been present in the clearing outside Callowmere, a slight preference for his left side, a stillness in the way he held his ribs that suggested wounds that weren't completely healed even yet. Bran's first thought was that."Mirelle." Cole's voice carried genuine relief, though his eyes had already moved past her, settling on Bran with something more complicated than simple gladness. "I'd begun to think I'd have to track you both down the hard way.""We thought you were dead," Mirelle said bluntly. "The Conclave rider who caught you across the ribs didn't look inclined toward mercy.""He wasn't. But he also wasn't as skilled as he believed himself to be." Cole's mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I've had better weeks."Bran found his voice, rougher than he intended. "I left you. In the cleari

When Bran came at dawn, he heard Cole and a strange voice speaking through the outer door of the cellar, but he did not see the courier. Then Cole went down the ladder by himself, his face unreadable in the early gray light that peeked through the well cover above. "Word's come back," said Cole. "The Ashcourt will welcome you. If we can reach the meeting spot before today's window closes. "That's fast," Mirelle remarked as she stood up and brushed the dust off her cloak. "Too fast, if I'm honest." Cole had a tight jaw. This indicates to me that someone on the inside is aware of what transpired at Corivane and wants Bran to appear before the Ashcourt before some other parties can become involved. That isn't always good news. It simply means the stakes have risen faster than I'd hoped."Sela was already packing what little they'd unpacked the night before, her movements brisk, purposeful. "Then we don't waste the window arguing about it. Where's the meeting point?""An hour east. A cros

At last, the path broke into sunshine, revealing a secret valley cupped between steep hills that was concealed from view from any road or ridge outside, rather than the gloomy stone corridor Bran had half expected. Terraced buildings rose along the slopes, dark timber and aged stone blending so perfectly into the hillside that Bran instantly realized why this place had never been marked down by a map, rumor, or casual conversation over an ale mug."Welcome to the Ashcourt," Ilsa said, watching his reaction with a muted satisfaction. "Three centuries of careful concealment, and you're one of perhaps two dozen outsiders who've ever seen it directly." Bran didn't say anything about its magnitude because he was too busy. It seemed more like a little, self-contained village, with people moving between buildings with the slow purpose of a place that had learned, generations ago, that patience overcame urgency, than the one concealed building he had dimly imagined."This way," Ilsa replied,

Yara returned two days later, this time without knocking first, finding Bran in the small courtyard outside the guest quarters where he'd taken to practicing simple forms with a borrowed length of scrap iron — not wardiron, just ordinary steel, a way to keep his hands busy while his mind worked through everything the Ashcourt had given him to carry."You look like a man expecting bad news," she said."I've had enough news lately that I've stopped expecting good." Bran set the scrap metal aside. "Did you find something?""I found several somethings." Yara settled onto the courtyard's low stone wall, pulling out her notebook, tapping it twice against her knee before opening it. "First, the easy part. Talia Renn is cleared. Thoroughly. I traced the timeline of her movements against Conclave patrol reports going back three weeks, cross-referenced with sightings from independent traders passing through the region. She was exactly where she claimed to be, doing exactly what she claimed to b

Before morning, the summons arrived. Bran's door was gently knocked on, and then Ilsa's voice called out for him to come right away to the archive wing. Her tone was obviously heavy, but no further explanation was given.Tucked into a more peaceful area of the hillside than the council room, he discovered Cole and Mirelle waiting behind a massive timber door he had never seen before. Yara stood next to them, her notebook out of sight for once, her carefully manicured expression telling Bran that maintaining her composure was costing her something. "It's done," she said before he could inquire.The audit's complete.""And?""Come inside. Rathorn wants you to hear this directly, not secondhand."The archive room beyond was smaller than Bran expected, shelves of correspondence and ledgers rising toward a high ceiling, Rathorn seated at a plain table with several documents spread before him, his expression graver than Bran had yet seen it."Sit, please," Rathorn said. "What I'm about to s