The stout boy rubbed a smear of grease against his breeches and stood up. It appeared as if he were struggling to stand. The boy was smudged with dirt and his eyes darted around as he spoke. Unlike the other boys, he wore no armor and his clothes fit him. He was the closest thing to a man in the whole castle beyond Feran and Lord Stormweather.

“They came in the early dawn, at first light. We had been ...