Everything went still, like someone cut the sound out of the world. The wolves stopped mid-snout. Horses froze on their haunches. Men and riders and elders all held whatever breath they had left.
The woman stepped down from the ridge like she was walking into a room she had expected. The white mantle around her shoulders stayed clean against the mud and smoke. Up close, her face was even calmer. Her eyes were a hard grey that missed nothing.
She stopped three yards from the center of the clearing and looked at Lyria. Not at Kael. Not at the Council riders. At Lyria.
"You are the one they called marked," she said. Her voice was plain and quiet. It landed like a fact that could not be argued.
The Council officer who had read from the scroll straightened as if at attention. His hand hovered near his sword. He spoke quick, the kind of man who expects a crowd to back him up.
