The northern stars were merciless in their clarity.
I stood on a small balcony attached to my chambers, a narrow ledge of stone that jutted out over the inner courtyard. It was cold enough to steal breath, cold enough to numb exposed skin within moments, but I welcomed the bite. It grounded me and forced me to focus on something other than the endless churn of doubt in my mind.
Above, the sky was a vast, black vault scattered with diamonds. The stars here were nothing like the soft, hazy lights of the South. They were sharp, brilliant, and almost violent in their intensity. They seemed closer, too, as if I could reach up and pluck them from the firmament if I were brave enough to try.
I had been standing here for an hour, maybe longer. The cold had long since seeped through my furs, through my layers of wool, and into the marrow of my bones. But I could not bring myself to go inside, to face the empty room and the echoes of the whispers that had followed me all day.
