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past few weeks, when even their training
hadn’t summoned an ember.
But he couldn’t bring himself to demand
why she wouldn’t or couldn’t use her power,
why they had seen or felt nothing of it after
those initial few days of freedom. Couldn’t
ask what Maeve and Cairn had done to
possibly make her fear or hate her magic
enough that she didn’t touch it.
Worry and dread gnawing at him, Rowan
slipped from the room, the din of preparations
greeting him the moment he entered the hall.
A heartbeat later, the door opened behind him,
and steps fell into sync with his own, along
with a familiar, wicked scent.
“They burned her.”
Rowan glanced sidelong at Fenrys.
“What?”
But Fenrys nodded to a passing healer.
“Cairn—and Maeve, through her orders.”