On the highest ridge overlooking Lothian City, Nyrielle stood on the deck of a chariot unlike any she'd ever ridden and gazed out at the twinkling lights of Lothian.
The chariot itself represented the highest level of skill available in the Southern Steppe, and one look at it was enough to know that High Lord Dirar had meant to offer it as tribute to both Nyrielle and Ashlynn.
A stand of trees had been carved onto the prow of the chariot. A stately oak stood at the center, flanked by hemlock and cedar, walnut and pear. Each tree had been carved down to the finest detail with perfectly shaped leaves and fruit that looked ready to pick. If Dirar could be faulted at all, the fault lay in his selection of trees, but even then, at the rate her darling was moving, it might not be long before she found witches to match up to the rest of the trees on the chariot.
