Perhaps that was why she had not found her
bed, not even when she knew Dorian had
likely procured sleeping arrangements. Why
she still lingered in the aerie, Abraxos dozing
beside her, and stared out at the silent
battlefield.
When the bodies were cleared, when the
snows melted, when the spring came, would a
blasted bit of earth linger on the plain before
the city? Would it forever remain as such, a
marker of where they fell?
“We have a final count,” Bronwen said
behind her, and Manon found the Crochan and
Glennis emerging from the tower stairwell,
Petrah at their heels.
Manon braced herself for it as she waved a
hand in silent request.
Bad. But not as bad as it could have been.
When Manon opened her eyes, the three of
them only stared at her. Ironteeth and
lily
(lily)
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