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“Morath found you just now,” Manon said
coolly. She’d anticipated this reaction. “It will
do so again. Whether it is in a few months, or
a year, they will find you. And then there will
be no hope of beating them.” She kept her
hands at her sides, resisting the urge to
unsheathe her iron claws. “A host of many
kingdoms rallies in Terrasen. Join them.”
“Terrasen didn’t come to our aid five
hundred years ago,” another voice said,
coming closer. The pretty, brown-haired witch
from earlier. Her broom, too, was bound in
fine metal—silver to Bronwen’s gold. “I don’t
see why we should bother helping them now.”
“I thought you lot were a bunch of self-
righteous do-gooders,” Manon crooned.
“Surely this would be your sort of thing.”
The young witch bristled, but Glennis held
up a withered hand.
It wasn’t enough to stop Bronwen, though,