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For hours, Manon and the Thirteen knelt in
the blood-soaked earth and dug the grave.
Dorian assisted Bronwen and Glennis in
drafting messages to the King and Queen of
Eyllwe and their two sons. Warning them of
the danger—and nothing more. No request for
aid, for armies.
Just before dawn, the Crochan messengers
returned. Their southern kin who had
summoned them here had arrived right after
the massacre, too late to save the human war
band or the few witches they’d sent ahead.
They had flown right to Banjali, where their
four covens now aided the King and Queen of
Eyllwe.
Not that the Eyllwe royals seemed to need
it. No, the other Crochan messenger had
returned with a message from the king
himself: the loss of the war band was grave
indeed, but Eyllwe was not broken by it. Their