He could not help but be angry for being pulled from Luana’s arms to spend the evening with a bunch of old men. I am to be a father. I should be celebrating. Not planning more strategies and warfare. The long hallway was lined with blazing torches, giving it a deceivingly warm look even during the harsh winter nights. He knew these halls well, having walked them nearly every night for the past two months since his father became sick. I have spent more time with my father and his men than I have with Luana. He thought of the night his father fell ill. In the wee hours of the morning Baylin woke with a jerk by a loud, urgent pounding on his chamber doors. Luana stirred when he pulled himself from the bed, wrapping a fur around him to keep the chill off. He walked across the dim room, the fire in the hearth cast a soft glow on the room as it threatened to extinguish. Just as he reached the door, the pounding came again. Baylin jerked the door open and found a young steward with a panicked expression on his sweaty face.
