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between them.
She could not surge to her feet. Could not
rise against the chains and glass. Could do
nothing, nothing—
Cairn gripped her by the neck, fingers
digging in hard enough to bruise, and ground
her again into the blood-drenched shards. A
rasping, broken scream cracked from her lips.
Fenrys. Her only tether to life, to this
reality—
Connall’s blade glinted. He’d come to help
at Mistward. He had defied Maeve then;
perhaps he’d do it now, perhaps his hateful
words had been a deception—
The blade plunged down.
Not into Fenrys.
But Connall’s own heart.
Fenrys moved—or tried to. Maw gaping in
what might have been a scream, he tried and
tried to lunge for his brother as Connall