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Their eyes were wide, but they made no
move.
The Thirteen remained where they were,
Dorian with them.
Manon scooped up both swords, sheathing
Wind-Cleaver across her back, and stalked
toward where Glennis and Bronwen stood,
monitoring her every breath.
Wordlessly, Manon handed Bronwen her
sword, nodding in thanks.
Then she removed the crown of stars and
extended it toward Glennis. “This belongs to
you,” she said, her voice low.
The Crochans murmured, shifting.
Glennis took the crown, and the stars
dimmed. A small smile graced the crone’s
face. “No,” she said, “it does not.”
Manon didn’t move as Glennis lifted the
crown and set it again on Manon’s head.
Then the ancient witch knelt in the snow.