unnerving black eyes. Not pretty, but with a
deadly, ancient sort of allure that even a new
hide couldn’t conceal. And utterly naked. She
shivered, rubbing her hands down her thin
arms. “Shall this form suffice to travel
lightly?”
Manon ignored the spider. “And when she
shifts in the night to rip us apart?”
Dorian only inclined his head, ice dancing
at his fingertips. “She won’t.”
Cyrene sucked in a breath. “A rare gift of
magic.” Her stare turned ravenous as she took
in Dorian. “For a rare king.”
Dorian only frowned with distaste.
Manon glanced to Asterin. Her Second’s
eyes were wary, her mouth a tight line. Sorrel,
a few feet behind, glowered at the spider, but
her hand had dropped from her sword.
The Thirteen, on some unspoken signal,
peeled away to their wyverns. Only Cyrene
lily
(lily)
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