pinky under one eye, she rubbed at some of
the red stain. It didn’t budge. Moistening the
tip of her pinky with her tongue, she ran her
finger across her lower lid again. It lessened
—slightly.
She was about to do it again when
movement flashed in the mirror.
Elide whirled, but too late.
The dark-haired beauty from the tavern
was standing behind her.
Lorcan had never felt the weight of the hours
so heavily upon him.
While he scouted the southern border of
that army, watching the soldiers on their
rotations, noting the main arteries of the
camp, he kept one eye upon the city.
His city—or it had been. He’d never
imagined, even during the childhood he’d
spent surviving in its shadows, that it would