CHAPTER 73

Dorian hunted through Morath in a hundred
different skins.
On the silent feet of a cat, or scuttling
along the floors as a cockroach, or hanging
from a rafter as a bat, he spent the better part
of a week listening. Looking.
Erawan still remained unaware of his
presence. Perhaps the nature of his raw magic
indeed provided him with anonymity—and
Maeve had only known to recognize it thanks
to whatever she’d pried from Aelin’s mind.
At night, Dorian returned to Maeve’s tower
chamber, where they would go over all he had