Irrenna stopped and took a better look at the animal at Aralorn’s side. He gazed mutely back, wagging his tail gently and trying to look harmless. He didn’t quite make it in Aralorn’s estimation, but apparently Irrenna wasn’t so discerning because she hesitated.

“If you shut him out now, he’ll only find a way in later.” Aralorn let a note of apology creep into her voice.

Irrenna shook her head. “You get to explain to your brothers why your pet gets to come in while theirs have to stay in the kennels.”

Aralorn smiled. “I’ll tell them he eats people when I’m not around to stop him.”

Irrenna looked at Wolf, who tilted his head winsomely and wagged his tail. “You might have to come up with a better story than that,” Irrenna said.

Hart frowned; but then, her brother had seen Wolf when he wasn’t acting like a lapdog.

Having heard the acceptance in Irrenna’s voice, Wolf ignored Hart and leapt silently up the stairs to wait for them at the door to the keep.

Aralorn stepped into the great hall and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She could pick out the earthy smell impregnating the old stone walls that no amount of cleaning could eradicate entirely, wood smoke from the fires, rushes sweetened with dried herbs and flowers, and some ineffable smell that no place else had.

“Aralorn?” asked her brother softly.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m just a bit tired.”

Falhart frowned, but followed Irrenna through the main hall, leaving Aralorn to fall in behind.

The cream-colored stone walls were hung with tapestries to keep out the chill. Most of the hangings were generations old, but several new ones hung in prominent places. Someone, she noticed, had a fine hand at the loom—she wondered if it was one of her sisters.