1564024802

have no true power beyond what we give you.
And you are scared to death that we’re about
to take it away.” Manon flipped Wind-Cleaver
in her hand, angling the sword downward, and
drew a line in the snow between them. “You
came alone for that fear. That others might
see what we are capable of. The truth that you
have always sought to hide.”
Her grandmother tutted. “Listen to you.
Sounding just like a Crochan with that
preachy nonsense.”
Manon ignored her. Ignored her and
pointed Wind-Cleaver directly at the
Yellowlegs Matron as she snarled, “That is
not your crown.”
Something like hesitation rippled over
Cresseida Blueblood’s face. But the
Yellowlegs Matron beckoned to Manon with
iron nails so long they curved downward.
“Then come and fetch it from me, traitor.”