The city woke to grey skies and the smell of rain coming in from the sea.
The winter had been long, longer than anyone could remember. The old men said the gods were holding their breath, waiting for something. The women said the cold had settled into the stones themselves, that the walls would never be warm again. The children didn't say anything. They had learned to keep their voices low, to watch the horizon, to listen for the sound of ships that never came.
But today, there was news.
Ampelos arrived at the palace just after dawn, his cloak wet with sea spray, his face tight with something that was not quite fear and not quite hope. He went straight to the war room, and within the hour, the others had gathered.
