The warrior academy was a complex of buildings, a citadel consisting of parade grounds, weapons foundries, dormitories, stables, classroom buildings, and pastures for livestock.

“All academy students stable their horses over here,” Amon said. “Whether in Wien House or not.”

They passed several long, low buildings that, from the smell, had to be stables. Reining in next to one of them, they dismounted. Raisa removed Switcher’s saddle and tack, and rubbed her down. A cadet directed them to a row of stalls. They made sure their mounts were watered and grained before they shouldered their saddlebags and walked over to a large stone building. Wien Hall was engraved over the doorway.

A clark sat at a table in the entrance hall with a great ledger in front of him. “Amon Byrne reporting with his company from the Fells,” Amon said. “I’ve already spoken to Master Askell.”

The clark nodded. “Welcome back, Commander. Master Askell says you’ll be staying in Grindell Hall. All of you.” The clark leaned forward, whispering to Amon.

Commander? Raisa’s overtired mind couldn’t grapple with that. Instead, she idly studied the names and dates carved on either side of the entrance—a list of class commanders that dated back to the Breaking. Noticing a familiar name, she focused, looking closer. Byrne surfaced at regular intervals over the past thousand years. Most recently, Edon Byrne, Amon’s father. And Amon Byrne.

She sensed Amon’s presence behind her, a prickling between her shoulder blades. “There are a lot of Byrnes up there,” she said, pointing.

“It’s kind of a tradition.” He took her saddlebags from her and handed them to Mick. “The rest of you, go get settled at Grindell,” he said. “Pick up extra linens for Morley and me, and put Morley’s things on the third floor. Talbot and Abbott, you’re in with Morley. Once your beds are made up and your things stowed, go on over to the dining hall. Don’t wait for us.”

He turned to Raisa. “You come with me, Morley. Master Askell is ready for us.”

Do we have to go see him now? Raisa thought. Weariness had overtaken Raisa’s hunger, and she wished she could just fall into bed. Aloud, she said, “I was hoping to get a bath first. Could I at least wash my face?”

“Better to be on time,” Amon said. “He’ll care more about your appearance if he agrees to admit you.”

The other Wolves collected blankets and sheets from a small storeroom and left the building through a side door. Raisa and Amon clumped up a long stone staircase to the third floor. Amon rapped on a thick wooden door at the top of the stairs.

“Come,” a deep voice said.