Kingdom of Ash

There were no guards, human or Valg,
standing watch before the open doors.
No one to mark the hooded figure who
strode in, black cape flowing.
Dorian hurried, skittering after that figure
just as the doors shut. His magic swelled, and
he willed it to calm, to coil, an asp poised to
strike.
One blow to get Erawan down, then he’d
shift and draw Damaris.
The figure halted, cloak swaying, and
Dorian dashed for the nearest shadow—by the
crack between the door and floor.
The chamber was ordinary, save for a table
of black glass in its center. And the golden-
haired, golden-eyed man seated at it.
Manon had not lied: Erawan had indeed
shed Perrington’s skin for something far
fairer.
Though still dressed in finery, Dorian