his eyes, the squared shoulders. The pitiless
face, yet inquisitive angle to his head. “Let’s
see if her information holds true—and decide
her fate afterward.”
Manon blurted, “What.” The Thirteen
shifted at the denied kill.
Dorian jerked his chin to the shuddering
spider. “Don’t kill her. Not yet. There’s more
she might know beyond the Crochans’
whereabouts.”
The spider hissed, “I do not need a boy’s
mercy—”
“It is a king’s mercy you receive,” Dorian
said coldly, “and I’d suggest being quiet long
enough to receive it.” Rarely, so rarely did
Manon hear that voice from him, the tone that
sent a thrill through her blood and bones. A
king’s voice.
But he was not her king. He was not the
coven leader of the Thirteen. “We let her live
lily
(lily)
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