I pull my shawl tight around me, but the icy fingers of wind easily creep through. Riszev's aunt forbade her from venturing to the wall, so in the hour since dinner, we've stood in the castle's high tower, viewing the twilit battle. She's wrapped in a strange, multi-folded sort of coat, its hood close around her face. No matter how hard the wind blows, it stays in place, and her gaze remains nearly unbroken at the fray. My head stays down, analyzing the texture of the stone as I try to ignore the screams of men dying and hungry for death.

Out of nowhere, as seems to be her habit, she says, "Do you know much of war?"

I shake my head, trying not to let my teeth chatter too much. "My home was peaceful growing up."

Her gloved hands lean against the rim of the wall. "Retra has been at peace a full generation. It is still good to study." She gestures, and reluctantly, I step closer to the edge of the tower. She points. "See how the Morineause forces are greater at the two ends?"

I peer out. The main press from the Kadranians is at the front gate, between the two guard towers. The Morineause soldiers guard the whole space but concentrate more heavily there. I nod.

"If the Kadranians break into one of the towers, they can kill all the men who rest inside. It is an opening to the castle grounds. A weakness."

A Morineause soldier stabs one of the few Kadranians on the wall, and his body topples past the horde climbing up. I look away.

For a moment, battle is the only sound on the air. Then rustling, and I glance over as Risev unwraps her coat to reveal her thick, long-sleeved shtan beneath. My brow draws together before she drops the heavy fabric on my shoulders. "Riszev—"

She puts a finger to her lips. "Not seeing the fight does not keep it from happening. Look and learn."

My numb fingers fumble to wrap the thing around me, and I pull the hood tight like she had it. The inside is warm from her wearing it, and my shivering muscles relax. I look back out over the wall like she asked.

"You are cold," she says. "Think of the soldiers. The Morineause wear—" Her gloved hand twists in the air.

"Chain shirts?"

Her head dips. "Metal. And the Kadranians wear the skin of animals. Who is warmer?"

I don't bother answering what's obvious.

"So the Morineause have more protection but lose their strength faster. A trade. War is full of trades, and not every trade is a choice." She glances at me as if to make sure I understand. "The wall is an example. Did the Kadranians choose to be below their enemy?"

I shake my head as one of their ladders is toppled over.

"So how do they fight the trade they did not choose?"

I study the wall, eyes keying in again on the ladders. When another soldier moves to remove one, I notice him lift up this time. I lean forward, realization dawning. "Their ladders have hooks in them." The simple physiks of it is clever—the higher a soldier climbs, the harder it would be to knock the ladder down.

A subtle smile touches her lips. "Good. They also force many men to the wall at once. Then the bowmen and magicians cannot stop all of them before some make it to the top."

The men climbing the ladders seem to be having some sort of trouble, though, especially as they get higher up. It's like an invisible hand is pushing at them. I point it out to Riszev, and she nods.

"Some sort of magic defense. We will have to ask Shava about it." She turns away from the wall, wide-legged pants swishing. "Come."

I hurry after her, grateful but confused. "You're not going to watch the rest of the battle?"

She opens the door, and we descend the tower, the warmer, still air washing over us.

"No. The Morineause will win today."

"How do you know?" The battle seemed to be going well—few Kadranians had managed to top the walls—but the past is not necessarily predictive. Anything can change.

Riszev shrugs. "A wise ruler has an eye for such things."

And that's all she says on the matter.