lent Aelin last fall. Though none of them had
ever endured such a yawning pit inside them.
Scowling at her bare feet in the snow,
Cyrene’s hands twitched at her sides, an echo
of the pincers she’d borne moments before.
Dorian tried not to shudder. Suicide to
sneak into Morath—once he learned what he
needed from this thing.
The weight of Manon’s gaze fell upon him
again, and Dorian didn’t balk from it. Didn’t
balk from Manon’s words as she said, “If you
find so little value in your existence that it
compels you to trust this thing, then by all
means, bring her along.” A challenge to look
not toward Morath or the spider, but inward.
She saw exactly what gnawed on his empty
chest, if only because a similar beast gnawed
on her own. “We’ll find out soon enough
whether she spoke true about the Crochans.”
The spider had. Damaris had warmed in his
lily
(lily)
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