In the castle study, the wind howled outside, beating against the windows. The air was oppressive.
Lady Lorna curled up in the cold chair. Ever since word of the Ironborn invasion had arrived, she had not closed her eyes.
The slightest disturbance inside or outside the castle was enough to jolt her awake, her heart pounding wildly.
Fear took root in the oppressive atmosphere, and fear gave rise to longing. She had never missed someone as much as she did now. She missed the sense of safety he brought her. But the more her longing grew, the more fiercely her unease surged.
She kept wondering what worth she had. Would he come? The Ironborn were rampaging and slaughtering everywhere. His own lands might be facing an even greater threat. Would he risk a clash with the savage Ironborn to rescue a worthless woman like her?
Or would he, like those cold-hearted men, casually cast aside a worthless woman like her when weighing his interests?
The study door opened gently. Lady Lorna looked over in fear, then relaxed when she saw who had entered.
Old Nicken, the steward, came in hunched over, a stack of parchment in his hands. "My lady, these are several documents concerning the lands. They need your seal."
Lady Lorna did not spare the documents even a second glance. She raised her bloodshot eyes and fixed them on the face of the old steward Suleiman had assigned to her, whom she had appointed without hesitation to show her loyalty to him. Without a moment's pause, she snatched up a quill and scrawled her name at the bottom of the parchment, splattering ink everywhere.
Her voice was hoarse and urgent, trembling slightly. "Steward Old Nicken, is... is there a reply from Lord Suleiman?"
Seeing his lady's haggard face,