The palace garden grew neatly from the earth-sewn roof of the third-tallest tower. Thin spindly trees with leaves as green as emeralds shed their precious stones with the passing breeze. As they fell, they mingled with the tall blades of stark green grass and the already downed bristles of other trees with thicker, straighter trunks.…

‘Are you sure? Just flew off like that? How strange…’ muttered Rolundin. ‘It’s not strange, wizard. It’s a shade.’ Grimm’s voice, strained by his injury, had become a gruff bark. ‘I didn’t recognise it. Didn’t realise until the thing was flying off. Fighting that fucking thing almost cost me more than a bit of old…