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beast’s neck with a burst of his power that left
him panting.
He whipped his magic toward the second
attacking wyvern, offering it the same quick
end, but didn’t see the third and fourth that
now crashed into the camp, wrecking tents
and snapping their jaws at anything in their
path. Crochans fell, screaming.
But then Manon was there, Abraxos sailing
hard and fast, and she lopped off the head of
the nearest rider. The Yellowlegs sentinel still
wore an expression of shock as her head flew.
Dorian’s magic balked.
The severed head hit the ground near him
and rolled.
A room flashed, the red marble stained
with blood, the thud of a head on stone the
only sound beyond his screaming.
I was not supposed to love you.
The Yellowlegs’s head halted near his