Chapter 10 - The King’s Hearth
The moon was high over the crags, casting a cold, bright silver light across the snow-dusted slate roofs of Oak Haven.
Inside the royal apartments, the fire in the great stone hearth had burned down to a bed of glowing red embers, throwing long, lazy shadows across the stone floor.
Isabel stood by the high south window, looking out over the sleeping valleys where the lights of the steadings twinkled like fallen stars against the dark bulk of the mountains.
Behind her, she heard the soft, familiar tread of Alister’s boots on the heavy wool rugs.
Strong arms slid around her waist from behind, pulling her back against the broad, warm wall of his chest. His chin rested gently on her shoulder, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of her neck.
"You're still thinking about the arena," Alister murmured, his voice a low vibration against her spine.
"I was thinking about my father," Isabel said quietly, her hands coming up to cover his where they rested over her waist. "He used to tell me that when the stones weep, the world changes. I didn't think he meant we'd end up running the mountain."
Alister turned her gently in his arms, his silver eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"Your father knew what the Sterlings were long before the books were written," Alister said softly. "He knew that true strength isn't about fangs, or claws, or the right to tear down a gate. It’s about who has the courage to stand in the dark and wait for the dawn."
He leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a slow, deep kiss that tasted of woodsmoke, old wine, and the absolute certainty of the winter coming to an end.
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Outside, somewhere in the deep pine forests below the crags, a wolf howled—not a cry of war or hunger, but a long, clear song to the moon.
And deep beneath the stone floor of the castle, the ancient runes slept peacefully, their work done at last.
