You pressed your forehead to the cool glass, watching the grey blur of fields and hedgerows whip past.

The compartment door clicked open.

Tall, lean, with sharp cheekbones and dark hair that fell across his brow. A faded scar ran from his temple to his jaw—old, silvered, unmistakably violent. He wore plain travelling robes, but there was something about the way he held himself. A soldier's stillness.