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clarified, the words flowing in a silver-
tongued melody. “But so we might discuss
matters between our peoples.”
The Crochans shifted, boots crunching in
the icy snow.
The coven leader asked, “Between Adarlan
and us, or between the Blackbeaks and our
people?”
Manon slid off Abraxos at last, her mount
huffing anxiously as he eyed their glinting
weapons. “All of us,” Manon said tightly. She
jerked her chin to the wyverns. “They will not
harm you.” Unless she signaled the command.
Then the Crochans’ heads would be torn from
their bodies before they could draw their
swords. “You can stand down.”
One of the Crochans laughed. “And be
remembered as fools for trusting you? I think
not.”
The coven leader slashed a silencing glare