The morning sun broke over the jagged gray peaks of the Southern Keep with a sharpness that practically demanded productivity. I was up at the crack of dawn—partly because my conscience was still writhing over the whole accidentally-bound-a-storm-dragon situation, and partly because if I was going to be grounded by my husband in five days, I was going to spend my remaining freedom being the absolute terror of household management.
By eight in the morning, the main hall looked like a war zone, and I was the supreme commander.
"Left! Two inches to the left, Nathan! Do you not possess spatial awareness?!" Elara's voice boomed across the grand gallery, echoing off the high stone arches.
