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their worth, they could still visit—briefly.
Then he’d gone about scouting. He knew
Whitethorn had ordered him to study the
southern edge, this edge, because it was
precisely where she’d emerge. If she emerged.
Whitethorn and Gavriel had divided up the
other camps, the prince claiming the west and
north, the Lion taking the eastern camp above
the waterfall’s basin.
The afternoon sun was sinking toward the
distant sea when they returned to their little
base.
“Anything?” Rowan’s question rumbled to
them.
Lorcan shook his head. “Not from Elide,
not from my scouting. The sentries’ rotations
are strict, but not impenetrable. They posted
scouts in the trees six miles up.” He knew
some of them. Had commanded them. Were
they now his enemy?