his magic still shivering as the feel of her
power lingered. The power to break into
minds, to rip apart the psyche. A different sort
of enemy. One that would require another
route. A reckless, fool’s route. A courtier’s
route.
So he shifted, fur becoming skin, paws into
hands. When he at last stood before the Fae
Queen, man once more, her smile grew. “How
handsome you are.”
Dorian sketched a bow. He didn’t dare
reach for Damaris at his side. “How did you
know?”
“You did not think I beheld you, your scent
and the feel of your power, in Aelin’s
memories?” She angled her head. “Though my
spy did not report your interest in shifting.”
Cyrene. Horror crept through him.
Maeve strode deeper into the chamber and
took up a seat on the bench before the foot of
lily
(lily)
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