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Fine. Cyrene, or whatever she called
herself, might live. Where it would lead them,
she’d see. The horrors the spider had
mentioned in Morath—
Later.
Manon scanned the darkening blue skies.
None of them had questioned when Manon
had sailed off on Abraxos hours earlier. And
none of her Thirteen now asked where she’d
gone as they monitored their ancient enemy’s
camp.
“Seventy-five that we can see,” Asterin
murmured, eyes fixed on the bustling camp.
“What in hell are they doing out here?”
Manon didn’t know. The Shadows hadn’t
been able to glean anything.
Tents surrounded small campfires—and
every few moments, figures departed and
arrived on brooms. Her heart thundered in her
chest.