Hundreds of Ironteeth witches and their
wyverns crashed into their own.
Petrah and Iskra pulled apart, the
Blueblood Heir flapping toward Manon while
Abraxos fought to stay upright.
Even with the wind, the battle, Manon still
heard Petrah as the Blueblood Heir said to her,
“A better world.”
Manon had no words. None, other than to
look toward the city wall, to the force trying
to enter through the river grates. “The walls
—”
“Go.” Then Petrah pointed to where Iskra
had paused in midair to gape at what
unfolded. At the act of defiance and rebellion
so unthinkable that many of the Morath
Ironteeth were equally stunned. Petrah bared
her teeth, revealing iron glinting in the watery
sunlight. “She’s mine.”
Manon glanced between the city walls and
lily
(lily)
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