At his side, two shorter men struggled to
keep up. One of them said, “Erawan’s motives
are mysterious indeed, Lord Vernon. He does
nothing without reason. Have faith in him.”
Dorian froze.
Vernon Lochan. Elide’s uncle.
His magic surged, ice cracking over the
windowsill.
Dorian tracked the lanky lord while he
stormed past, his dark fur cape drooping to the
stones. “I have had faith in him beyond what
could be expected,” Vernon snapped.
The lord and his lackeys gave the tower
door a wide berth as they passed it, turned the
corner, and vanished, their voices fading with
them.
Dorian surveyed the empty hall. The
council room at the far end. The door still
ajar.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t give himself
lily
(lily)
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