Snow drifted slowly across the outer courtyard of Iskandar Peaks, lighter now than before. The wind had calmed to a steady breath instead of a cutting roar, moving frost across the stone in thin white trails.
Noel stood near the edge of the terrace overlooking the mountain descent. Noir remained beside him, her dark fur dusted with fine crystals of ice, purple eyes reflecting the pale sky.
He had done what he came to do.
The Northern Isles were aligned.
Iskandar had committed.
The other major houses would follow through existing ties and alliances. Some out of loyalty. Some out of strategy. Some because others would move first.
Only one name remained unresolved.
Thorne.
His own house.
The irony was not lost on him.
The break had been his decision. Unilateral. Final. He had chosen distance long ago. They had not chased him away with words; they had done it with actions.
Assassins.
