CHAPTER 71

Dorian’s magic struggled, roaring as her dark
power held him in its net. If he could turn into
a wyvern and rip her head off ...
But Maeve smiled, weary and amused, and
lifted her foot from his poor tail. Then
released her grip on his magic.
He shuddered at the dark, festering power
as it caressed talons down his magic, brushed
the shimmering, raw core, and vanished.
It was an effort not to gag, not to touch the
pale band on his neck just to be sure it was
gone.
Maeve’s smile remained on her red mouth,