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dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He’d
truly been able to change parts of himself.
Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And
kept it that way.
Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even
Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms
around Narene’s neck. Holding her tight. The
mare only leaned her head against Asterin’s
back and huffed.
Dorian slid off the mare, leaving the reins
dangling.
“Well?” Manon demanded.
His eyes—dark as a Valg’s—flashed. She
didn’t try to explain that her knees had been
shaking. Still buckled while she handed him
his sword, then the two keys, her nails grazing
his gloved hand.
Dorian’s eyes lightened to that crushing
sapphire, his skin becoming golden once
more. “The Matrons are not there. Only Petrah