“That’s a question to debate at another
time,” Dorian ground out. “When we’re not at
war.” He took a long breath. Another one.
“Please,” he breathed. “Please help me save
my friends. Help me make it right.”
It was all he really had left—this task.
Gavin again watched him, weighed him.
Dorian withstood it. Let him read whatever
truth was written on his soul.
Pain clouded the king’s face. Pain, and
regret, as Gavin finally said, “The key is at
Morath.”
Dorian’s mouth went dry. “Where in
Morath?”
“I don’t know.” Dorian believed him. The
raw dread in Gavin’s eyes confirmed it. The
ancient king nodded to Damaris. “That sword
is not ornamental. Let it guide you, if you
cannot trust yourself.”
“It really tells the truth?”
lily
(lily)
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