Chapter 25: Ren the Pale Rides Out, Still Pale

He left before the first bell.

Connie was already saddled — he had done it the night before, working by the single lantern the stable boy had left burning, because he had learned in three years on the Continent that if you planned to leave before dawn you saddled the horse the night before or you didn't leave before dawn. The roan mare stood with the philosophical patience of an animal who has made her peace with being owned by someone unreliable, and she turned her head once to look at him as he checked the girth, as if confirming that yes, he was doing this again, and yes, she supposed she was coming.

The guild brand on her left shoulder was a raised scar under his palm, smoothed and faded, the original shape lost to the file. He had never asked the man he bought her from what the original mark had said. He had not wanted to know.