Three days out of Ashenveil, the wind shifted.
Tarn noticed first. He raised his hand and halted the column at the crest of a low rise. The five warriors pulled up behind him. Senna’s old gelding drifted alongside without any prompting. Aria and Kael stopped at the middle of the line.
Two days the wind had blown steady from the southeast. Now it was coming hard from the north. The grass on the ridge bent the wrong way. Overhead, clouds started moving faster.
“That’s not weather,” Senna said under her breath.
Tarn looked back at her.
“No, witch.”
“What is it, then.”
“Somebody’s calling it.”
Aria’s hand closed around the silver ring on her right finger. It was always warm. It had always been warm. But something was different now a thin line of heat moving up her arm, settling at the
