By the time the sun began to slowly rise toward midday, Bran was starting to lose patience with the drill. Cole had Bran execute the same activity for nearly two hours: maintain posture, react only to cues, and resist the want to enter danger before being given instructions. When the wardiron's leather hilt touched Bran's palm, he gasped. "This is the fourth time," he said. Sweat stung his eyes, but he kept his boots firmly planted on the specified dirt ring in the training yard. "And you broke position twice," Cole said, leaning against a wooden quarterstaff. This implies that we repeat the procedure five or six times till it doesn't feel like the most difficult task I've ever given you. With his blade lowered an inch, Bran shouted, "People could be in danger while I'm standing here holding a mark." Cole answered, "I'm useless if I'm just waiting for permission." "People are in less danger when you hold your position than when you don't," he said, lowering his voice to an unquesti

Barely an hour after they had slipped from the southern gate of the valley, the token found them in a narrow passage. Cole and Talia were standing next to Bran in tense silence as the strange folding dark engulfed them, and Bran felt the same disorienting pressure building in his ears that he remembered from the first time he'd used it. When the passageway opened into the well-known stone chamber, Emrys was waiting, but his posture seemed different tonight—tighter, more vigilant, as if he too recognized the dwindling hours bearing down on them all.Emrys exclaimed, "You came sooner than I expected," getting up from his chair by the fire. "I take it that circumstances have changed.”"Darrow's abandoned patience," Bran remarked, closely observing Emrys's expression for any hint of surprise or insight. "Tomorrow nite, reinforcements will arrive. He plans to use force to put an end to this."Emrys's countenance took on a grim confirmation, rather than a look of surprise, as if a fear he

Mirelle hadn't slept. Bran could tell from the ink smudged along the side of her hand, from the way she squinted at her own handwriting as if the letters had started swimming sometime past midnight, from the three empty cups lined up beside her elbow like small, exhausted soldiers."You should rest," Bran said, setting a plate of bread beside her that she didn't touch."I will, once I've finished this." She didn't look up. "Sit. I want you to hear this before Rathorn does, so you're not blindsided in front of the council."Bran lowered himself into the chair across from her, his stomach tightening before she'd said anything further."I went back through every account we have of your engagements since Ashvale," Mirelle said. "The Warden in the square. The Conclave rider outside Callowmere. The guards at the Hollow Reach. The staging post two nights ago." She turned her notebook toward him, rows of careful notation filling the page. "There's no consistent pattern of unexplained death am

Rather than the lone warning blow of a scout, the horn sounded three times in rapid succession just after midnight, its sharp, brassy notes cutting through the darkness like a blade. The signal, which Rathorn had set aside just for "they're here in force," bounced off the canyon walls and boomed out across the cold mountain stone, making the entire valley seem to tremble with the warning. "Bran was standing before the third note ended, his boots finding the eastern wall's steps two at a time, wardiron in hand. Every breath burned in his chest and his heart hammered high in his throat as he jumped up the ancient stone stairs. Cole, with his heavy iron sword already drawn and held low at his side, fell into stride beside him without uttering a word. They reached the parapet together just as the first lights appeared along the western slope, dozens of them this time, glowing bright and orange through the dark nite as they stretched out across the horizon like something spilling rather t

Bran remained silent. He shifted.Every defensive guard Cole had drilled into Wardiron's bones was dismissed by Wardiron's high, forceful diagonal. Darrow's eyes widened slightly before he raised his broadsword to block the attack. Bran's teeth clamped together as the steel struck the stone fissure with such force. "There it is," Darrow remarked. His lead foot skittered two inches backward across the rough shale as the quiet fractured at its edges, and his breathing had broken its steady pattern.Bran remained silent. He continued to push his lips into a narrow, colorless line.His gaze was fixed solely on the gold rim of the older man's breastplate—the point of target—rather than following Darrow's shoulders or searching for openings. He swung once more, overcommitting his shoulder to push Darrow back another half-pace with a hefty, clumsy downward chop.It's not discipline.Bran's footwork remained unchanged despite the obvious and distinct memory of Cole's voice on the patio. He brou