The summons came two days after Runa's visit, delivered by a young page who could not have been more than twelve. His eyes went wide when he saw me, and he stammered through his message with the awkwardness of someone speaking to a living legend.
"Captain Torvin requests a private word with you, my lady. At your earliest convenience. In his quarters." He paused, then added, "He said... he said to tell you it's important."
I thanked him, and he fled as if the hounds of the North were at his heels.
Torvin. The captain of the Mountain Watch. The scarred, grim-faced warrior whose assessment had carried more weight than any other since my arrival. He had witnessed my trial, had seen me rise and fight and win. Now he wanted to speak with me privately.
My stomach churned with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. This was not a social call. Torvin did not do social work. Whatever he wanted to say would be important, direct, and probably uncomfortable.
