PREVIEW

... o a charcoal sketch. Mist drifted between the tents like pale serpents, coiling around spear-points and muting the clink of armor. Even the waterfall, ever a thunderous sentinel beyond the ridge, hushed its roar to a stone-deep murmur—as though some instinct warned it to listen.

Princess Vaelira Greenbark stood just beyond the furthest cook-fire, where heat faded and dew gathered. Her moss-iron cuirass seemed forged for moonlight; each leaf-molded scale caught the glow and released it in ...

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