Her dark brown eyes-flecked with gold-fixed on the Imperial Gate far below as it opened to allow a military party to race inside. The shutter was quickly forgotten as horns echoed their call on the palace wall below, and Vhalla blinked into the howling wind. Unlatching the shutter proved to be a poor idea as the wind grabbed it, slamming it against the palace stone so hard that she thought it would rip from its hinges. Vhalla jumped to her feet, rushing to the small archer’s slit that served as her window. The noise faded before resounding once more. The burst of light through the shutter slats hadn’t set her heart to racing tonight it was the solemn, low cry of a horn resonating off every post in the city that slowed her world with each reverberation.
But lightning and thunder were never welcome guests.
SUMMER STORMS WERE common in the capital and Vhalla Yarl had endured their visits in the seven years since she had moved from the East.
0 kommentar(er)
