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Elide willed her face to redden, thinking of
all the mortifying moments on the road: her
cycle, having to explain when she needed to
relieve herself ... “I need to speak with him,”
was all Elide said. Learning Maeve’s
whereabouts would come later.
The dark-haired beauty said a shade too
quietly, “What is your name, child?”
“Finnula,” Elide lied, naming her
nursemaid.
“Here’s a bit of advice,” the second male
drawled, sipping from his ale. “If you escaped
Cairn, don’t go looking for him again.”
His commander shot him a look. “Cairn is
blood-sworn to our queen.”
“Still makes him a prick,” the male said.
The female growled, viciously enough that
the male wisely went to see about their drinks.
Elide made her shoulders curve inward.
“You—you know him, then?”