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... e. It’s from when I was a boy, back home in the Dales.

I wasn’t born a lord. I earned my knighthood through deed, a touch of luck, and the whim of a certain iron-willed highborn. Half my relatives were woodcutters. I’d even taken my House name from those roots — Hewer. I’d thought it a fine jest at the time, though Rose had rolled her royal eyes.

When I was still a commoner lad, I’d gotten lost in an elfwood near my village. It had been my first experience of just how strange the ...

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“Master Ian!” She called.

Ian smiled with the usual mischievous smirk that he always used. His crimson eyes trailing a little over her room and spotted the black dress over her bed and shifted his eyes over to the woman in front of him. He stepped forward and spoke. “Where did you acquire that dress?”

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