her, she would help in whatever way she
could.
But when a white-haired witch limped into
the hall, an injured Crochan slung between her
and another witch Elide did not recognize ...
Elide was halfway across the space, across the
hall where she had spent so many happy
childhood days, by the time she realized she’d
moved.
Manon paused at the sight of her. Gave the
wounded Crochan over to her sister-in-arms.
But made no move to approach.
Elide saw the sorrow on her face before she
reached her. The dullness and pain in the
golden eyes.
She went still. “Who?”
Manon’s throat bobbed. “All.”
All of the Thirteen. All those fierce,
brilliant witches. Gone.
Elide put a hand to her heart, as if it could
lily
(lily)
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