1564024802

were deadly.
Manon went on, “A lie, about who we are,
what we are. That we are monsters, and proud
to be.” She ran a finger over the scrap of red
fabric binding her braid. “But we were made
into them. Made,” she repeated. “When we
might be so much more.”
Silence fell.
Manon took that as encouragement enough.
“My grandmother does not plan to only
reclaim the Wastes when this war is done. She
plans to rule the Wastes as High Queen. Your
only queen.”
A murmur at that. At the words, at the
betrayal Manon made in revealing her
Matron’s private plans.
“There will be no Bluebloods, or
Yellowlegs, not as you are now. She plans to
take the weapons you have built here, plans to
use our Blackbeak riders, and make you into