Lord of the White Hell book Two

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K iram stared with red-rimmed eyes out at the fields lining the road to the Sagrada Academy. Only desiccated sunflower stalks and tracks of broken soil remained from the harvest. ^e land looked as ragged as he felt and the dark confines of the Tornesal carriage offered him no more rest than his sumptuous bed had the night before. Despite exhaustion, hard liquor and hours spent wandering unknown streets, sleep had eluded him. Just as it evaded his restless mind now.

Outside, blue jays flashed their brilliant wings from a stand of apple trees; red leaves fell as the birds took to the air and swept past the creaking luggage carriage. Kiram shuddered at the sight of them and the scabbed gash in his forearm throbbed as if pulsing with poison. A week ago he could have found the birds a lovely distraction on such a cold fall morning. He might have delighted in their graceful flight and taken little note of how closely the flock followed the steady course of this single carriage.

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