“Who are you?” he breathed.
“Elena?”
Kaelen did not ask for time. Time was another thing the king had drowned. He asked only for the tune. Silent Hope
He saw her from the ridge: a woman standing at the edge of the old well, her hair the color of dry reeds, her clothes dry despite the weeping air. She held no lantern, made no noise. Yet the fog curled away from her feet as if afraid. “Who are you