her. Perhaps this journey to Eyllwe would
offer her the chance to speak to more. Even if
she could feel each passing hour and minute
weighing upon them.
Hurry northward, the wind sang, day and
night. Hurry, Blackbeak.
When Karsyn was gone, Asterin remained
staring at Abraxos and Narene, scratching her
hair. “You really think they’re mated?”
Abraxos lifted his head from where it
rested atop Narene’s back and looked toward
them, as if to say, It took you long enough to
figure it out.
“What am I supposed to be watching for,
exactly?”
Sitting knee to knee in their tiny tent, the
wind howling outside, Manon’s golden eyes
narrowed as she peered into Dorian’s face.
“My eyes,” he said. “Just tell me if they