The room above the Tally's End had exactly one window.
It was small.
Drafty.
And impossible to close completely whenever the weather turned.
According to Cass, it was the worst room in Kestrel's Reach.
According to Torin Maclagan...
It was the best room they could afford.
Its greatest advantage had nothing to do with comfort.
It faced east.
Every morning the rising sun poured directly through the window and into the faces of whoever had been unlucky enough to sleep nearest it.
Which meant no one could oversleep.
Not anymore.
Cass had complained for the first month.
Eventually she'd given up.
These days she was usually awake before everyone else.
Torin opened his eyes to the familiar scrape of whetstone against steel.
Shhk...
Shhk...
Shhk...
Cass sat cross-legged beneath the window, her boots already laced, methodically sharpening one of her throwing knives.
Not that it needed sharpening.
She had sharpened the same knife yesterday.
And the day before that.
