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quickly asleep. Had stayed asleep, while
Manon had contemplated how, exactly, she
was to have this meeting.
Perhaps she should have brought Dorian.
He certainly knew how to play these games.
To think like a king.
He’d killed that spider like a blue-blooded
witch, though. Not an ounce of mercy.
It shouldn’t have thrilled her the way it did.
But Manon knew her pride would never
recover, and she’d never again be able to call
herself a witch, if she let him do this task for
her.
So Manon shouldered through Glennis’s
tent flaps without announcing herself. “I need
to speak to you.”
She found Glennis buckling on her
glamoured cloak before a tiny bronze mirror.
“Prior to breakfast? I suppose you got that
urgency from your father. Tristan was always