Days and nights blended together in Iron Claw.
Morning and evening were marked only by the changing rhythm of the fortress. The morning horn blared and echoed through the stone structure, the clash of blades at dawn, the constant grind of stone doors, and the guttural voices of warriors were always present, even down in her bleak quarters below the fortress.
For Lyra, her time passed by marked only by her own silence.
Her chamber was small and stark, a glorified prison cell. It barely had enough room to pace in next to the straw bed. She wished she at least had a window, remembering how often she’d spend time next to hers in Midnight Crest overlooking the pack grounds.
“Are you looking at the sky, Kade?” she wondered. “Would we be looking at the same stars if I could see them?”
The th
