From Iron and Ruin

Ainthoch.

Not the kind that could be solved using magic and steel. Not the kind of trouble that I was confident that I wanted to solve.

Asha'da. If Kendon was here, he would have been laughing at me.

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Nine days after we returned, the horns atop the great walls of Adotlan rang out – sounding the arrival of people on the road that swept up to the lake-Keep. I was tucked in a side-garden, struggling to translate Ekini into Cadel with the hounds flopped out onto the grass in front of me. I was avoiding the others, especially Fyr.

Ever since I had returned to Adotlan, she had hovered like a worried hen. She had obviously heard of Vanya through a letter and had clucked over me and tried to over-feed me and sent hot baths and treats to my room whenever she felt like I was holing myself up there.

When the horn sounded, I rocketed up to my feet and the hounds startled. When they saw no threat, Zeer whined at me indignantly.

"An important person is arriving, I think," I muttered as I listened to the ringing horns. I ran a hand over Zeer's head as we wound through the corridors and Arno bounded on ahead, weaving past servants and workers with grace despite his bulk.

I reached the bottom step on the staircase that swept up to Ewyn's Hall just as the gates to the inner courtyard opened. Grand, beautiful horses mounted by men dressed in black armour, swept into the courtyard. Beyond that, Adotlan was a hive of noise and excitement.

Lord Ainthoch.

He sat stop a sable-coated mount, with a heavy cloak sprawled out behind him. His beard was dark and neatly trimmed, his brow heavy with a frown. I risked a step closer and the hounds fell into step beside me.

The lord dismounted, tugging of his gloves and tucking them away as he handed his reins to one of his men. Running a tanned hand through crushed black curls, he surveyed Adotlan and Ewyn's Hall critically.

He was younger than I imagined – no older than forty, if even that. He was handsome too and not in the way I imagined a wealthy lord to be. His hands were calloused, his face tanned and leathered. His face lined. If not for the finery of his clothes, he could have passed as a working man.

Dark eyes snapped to me and I slowed my approach. 'Be careful with this one, I thought. 'Be very careful.'

Their horses began to startle as the hounds came closer and with a sharp whistle, I sent the hounds back. Lord Ainthoch's gaze did not waver from me – dark and intense eyes. A heavy brow. A stern mouth.

I had a feeling that Ainthoch would not be like the little lords that I had dealt with before. I swallowed my nerves as I held out my hand. "It is an honour to welcome you here, Lord Ainthoch."

So used to the hesitation of lords to touch the hand of a Half-blood, I could barely contain my surprise when he grasped my hand without a pause, smiling politely. "It is an honour to be here, Seeker Birchwood. I apologise for the delay in our arrival. The Empire is not safe, even for a man with a guard around him."

"I would think, especially for a man with a guard around him." I replied. Stable hands began to creep forward, intimidated by the finely dressed soldiers and the man who commanded the courtyard's attention so easily.

"True," Lord Ainthoch mused. His gaze swept upwards to the towering turrets, where snow-hawks circled, shrieking in the frigid air. "The word of the Legion is everywhere these days. You are the woman on everyone's lips - a source of intrigue and conversation for many."