In the darkness before dawn, candlelight flickered in the lord's study at Deddings Castle, casting a sickly yellow pallor over Lady Roslin's haggard face. She had not slept all night. Her eyes were sunken and webbed with red veins, and yesterday's argument had drained the last of her strength, leaving her feeling like a hollowed-out scarecrow. She sat upon her husband's lordly throne, yet felt not the slightest trace of its authority.
The heavy oak door swung open, and Suleiman entered, escorted by a maid.
Suleiman had changed into a sharp military uniform. He looked like a drawn sword, utterly at odds with the despondent air of the study. Lady Roslin raised her head, her gaze unfocused.
Looking at the haggard, dejected woman before him, he spoke calmly, breaking the silence. "My lady."
"I thought about it all night."
Suleiman walked slowly up to her, his gaze steady, his face marked by the gravity of someone who had given the matter careful thought.
"The lands of House Deddings cannot be defiled by the Ironborn, and your people cannot go on suffering."
He paused briefly. Each word struck Lady Roslin's taut nerves like a hammer, and with every blow, her eyes gradually came back into focus.
"Allow me to lead the allied forces out of the castle and drive the Ironborn from House Deddings' lands."
"I will drive them away."
The words struck like a thunderclap. Lady Roslin abruptly sat upright. She looked at Suleiman, a glimmer of hope crossing her eyes before being replaced by even deeper fear. All night, she had considered Suleiman's suggestion that they hold out for reinforcements. She thought of the old knight Elak, and of the thousand-man force that had marched out to meet the enemy only to be utterly routed. That battlefield, with its