The mountains of Drukbane rose like dark walls against the morning sky. Mist covered the ground, and cold air carried the scent of snow and pine. As the convoy approached, the howl of wolves echoed through the cliffs.

Draven rode in front, his cloak heavy with dew. Liora sat inside the carriage, her eyes fixed on the pale shapes of towers breaking through the fog. The fortress looked endless — stone, iron, and shadows. It was stronger than her father’s palace, but colder too.

When the ...