toward the brown-haired sentinel who’d
spoken, a pretty, full-figured witch. The witch
shrugged, sighing skyward.
The coven leader turned to Manon. “We
will stand down when we are ordered to do
so.”
“By whom?” Dorian scanned their ranks.
Now would be the time for Manon to say
who she was, what she was. To announce why
she had truly come.
The coven leader pointed deeper into the
camp. “Her.”
Even from a distance, Dorian had marveled at
the brooms the Crochans sat astride to soar
through the sky. But now, surrounded by them
... No mere myths. But warriors. Ones all too
happy to end them.
Bloodred capes flowed everywhere, stark
against the snow and gray peaks. Though