Chapter 150

The archers went out after dark, by the west postern, four hundred of them in white over grey, and the yard was so quiet while they went that I could hear the snow settle on the stable roofs.

I watched from the kitchen step. They went in files of ten behind shuttered lanterns, and Lucien’s thirty-one walked among them with their hands moving a little at their sides, already laying the first threads of it, so that by the last file I could not quite say how many had gone through. My father went with the last of them, on foot, with his bow on his back like any of the rest. He stopped at the postern and looked back across the yard for me. I lifted my hand. He lifted his, and went out.

Rhys took the wolves an hour later by the north gate, without torches. Rowan went with the horses after him, on Pudding, with his leg strapped and a face that said he would hear no more about it.

Then there was nobody left in the yard but the watch, and Nana counting the empty pegs in the