Elide into the saddle, Falkan already flying up
the sheer face of the pass. “Trying to pretend
to be a wyvern trainer. But one of the other
trainers sold him out. Queen Aelin called for
you as soon as they had him secure. Your
uncle, not the trainer, I mean.”
Elide hadn’t been able to respond. Had
only nodded.
Vernon was here. At the Gap. Not in
Morath with his master, but here.
Gavriel and Fenrys were waiting when
Arcas landed in the cavernous opening into
the Northern Fang. The rough-hewn rock
loomed like a gaping maw, the reek of what
lay within making her stomach turn again.
Like rotting meat and worse. Valg,
undoubtedly, but also a smell of hate and
cruelty and tight, airless corridors.
The two Fae males silently fell into step
beside her as they entered. No sign of Lorcan,
lily
(lily)
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