Nila adjusted her grip on the leather leading rein, her boots sinking an inch into the packed gray slush of the lower training ring. The midday exercise was always tedious during the cold moons, a slow rotation of walking the pack mares to keep their hocks from freezing up in the dark stables.

A few paces ahead of her, Iris was leading Kaelen’s heavy bay gelding. Her shoulders were slouched forward, her chin buried deep in the collar of her salt-stained leather coat, and her movements were heavy, as if her boots were made of iron.

"Iris, you’re letting him crowd your shoulder," Nila said, her voice carrying across the...