The heavy wooden door to the western courtyard swung closed, cutting off the sound of the blacksmith’s hammer from the lower yard.

Nila pulled her dark gray wool cloak tighter around her chest, keeping her pace steady as Iris led the way up the narrow stone steps toward the upper battlements. It was an unusual invitation. Typically, Iris spent her late afternoons down in the dirt of the training paddocks, shouting orders at the new recruits or checking the leather straps on the vanguard saddles. She rarely asked anyone to accompany her for a walk, let alone Nila.

They reached the flat stone walkway of the wall, their boots clicking...