My year was full of far more banal horrors. Land management, the winter season at court. Outfitting and training the local militia and praying that elf bullshit and corrupted lyrium and blood magic and the front lines of the war would stay away from my people.

[ Most of those prayers had landed. ]

Somehow I forgot, [ she says, moving her fingers from cheek to hair to separate out a curl and resettle it for no other reason than to touch, ] how fucking forsaken it is here on the front lines.