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She couldn’t fight as Aelin—not
convincingly, and not well enough to stay
alive. And when the Fire-Bringer fought with
no flame ... they might know then.
She has run away. Again.
Two Silent Assassins noticed on the second
night that the dead soldier still lay on
Lysandra’s back.
They said nothing as they gathered warm
water to melt the blood and gore that had
bound him to her. Then to wash her.
In her roan mare form, she had no words to
offer them, had no way to ask if they knew
what she was. They treated her with kindness
nonetheless.
No one made to reach for the lone horse
roaming through the ramshackle camp. Some
soldiers had erected tents. Many just slept
beside the fires, under cloaks and jackets.
Her ears were ringing. Had been ringing