Kingdom of Ash

linger outside the camp. Likely from fear of
what Manon might do to her if she was
spotted trailing after him into the dark.
A bastard—he was a bastard for using them
like this. For assessing and monitoring them
when they currently risked everything to find
the Crochans.
But it made no difference if he cared.
About them. About himself, he supposed.
Caring hadn’t done him any favors. Hadn’t
done Sorscha any favors.
And it wouldn’t matter, once he gave up
everything to seal the Wyrdgate.
Damaris was a weight at his side—but
nothing compared to the two objects tucked
into the pocket of his heavy jacket.
Mercifully, he’d swiftly learned to drown out
their whispering, their otherworldly
beckoning. Most of the time.
None of the witches had questioned why