the torture. Knew the odds were stacked
against her. He’d spent two weeks strapped on
an enemy’s table. Still bore the scar on his
arm from one of their more creative devices.
Hurry. They had to hurry.
Rowan leaned forward, resting his brow
against Goldryn’s hilt. The metal was warm,
as if it still held a whisper of its bearer’s
flame.
He had not set foot in Akkadia since that
last, horrible war. Though he’d led Fae and
mortal soldiers alike to victory, he’d never
had any desire to see it again.
But to Akkadia they would go.
And if he found her, if he freed her ...
Rowan did not let himself think beyond that.
To the other truth that they would face, the
other burden. Tell Rowan that I’m sorry I lied.
But tell him it was all borrowed time anyway.
Even before today, I knew it was all just
lily
(lily)
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