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foothills flowed to the towering wall of the
Cambrian Mountains. To the west, the plain
rolled into farmland, endless and open, to the
sea. And in the east, past the waterfall, the
grassy plain yielded to ancient forests, more
mountains beyond them.
His mountains. The place he’d once called
home, where that mountain house had stood
until it had been burned. Where he’d buried
Lyria and had one day expected to be laid to
rest himself.
“We need an exit strategy as well,” Rowan
said, though he’d already been considering it.
Where to run afterward. Maeve would send
out her best to hunt them down.
That had once included him. He’d been
sent to track and dispatch the Fae who turned
too monstrous for even Maeve to stomach,
rogue Fae who had no business existing
anymore. He’d trained the hunters Maeve