The night air was cold against Marcus's skin as the guards shoved him toward the waiting carriage.
It was a sleek, black vehicle. It looked far too expensive for this grimy alleyway.
Before Marcus stepped inside, he paused.
His eyes locked onto the emblem painted on the lacquered door panel.
The moon broke through the clouds for a brief second. It illuminated the crest in silver.
It depicted a falcon. Its wings were spread wide in a dive.
In its sharp talons, the bird clutched a broken arrow.
Marcus frowned. His mind raced through the heraldry books he had studied.
He knew the Roselle Rose. He knew the Blackthorn Serpent.
He knew the shields of the border counts and the banners of the coastal barons.
He did not know this falcon.
That fact terrified him more than a known enemy would have.
An unknown crest meant a secret lineage.
Or worse, a house that operated in the shadows.
Or maybe, just a minor house.
"Get in," the guard grunted. He shoved Marcus forward.
