Chapter Fifteen

It was late into the night, but Rowan found no sleep. It was not often that she was able to truly relax behind the walls of the Citadel. Many mixed thoughts would rush through her head while she sat awake with burning eyes. 

Her quarters was built mostly of a wooden structure and the walls were hung with the hide of deer and bears to keep the space insulated and warm, and the bed she was sitting on was nothing more than a roughly sewn mat on the floor.

In her hand, Rowan was fiddling around with a small, carven necklace. It was one of the last things handed down to her by her late grandmother and she never let it out of her sight. Sometimes, just like tonight, when she was alone in her Citadel quarters, she would remove it from her neck just to grasp it in her hands. It helped her recall days long ago, before her home was taken; days when she would watch