" There's an inn between here and the capital," Henry said. " We'll rest there tonight and go to Lynea's Chapel tomorrow to request assistance."
Aislin had long since settled into despondency, and didn't answer.
Henry led the horse, Aislin a slim black figure hunched over the saddle, away from the now completely still ruins.
The muddied ashes stuck to his boots in a distinctly unpleasant way.
This was his plan-
They'd rest at Laurana's Inn, have a light breakfast, he'd rent a horse for Aislin, they'd go to the chapel and get an audience granted with the king, they'd explain it all, they'd march on Altaer as a retaliation...
He didn't think it out past that. What Aislin would do afterwards never even crossed his mind.