A boy held the reins to Sefare’s white steed as they awaited her exit. He had not slept in the solar chambers, but in the tower. He had that tense feeling that the nightmares were going to plague him. And, they had. He relived moments in the tower, moments watching his family die, and he swam through blood to emerge from the horrors. Ronan recognized it was something that happened before a Tourney or battle; usually they visited him for several nights. He shook free of those thoughts when Sefare emerged from the castle. Morning mist still clung at the early hour, and at first, he saw only her mantle and boots, a deep blue cloak. When the lad gave her a leg into the saddle and she went astride, he noted as she pushed back the mantle, that she wore leather breeches, a linen blouse, and tunic of buff leather. “Ready?” She glanced at him, having gathered the reins in her gloved hands. Her gaze went from his mask, to his leathers; plain riding clothing and a dun cloak. “Aye.” He kneed the mount.
