I respected that.
Words were overrated.
Most of mine came out wrong anyway.
We had barely crossed the threshold when the air split open in front of us.
A black wound appeared between one breath and the next, edged in Marcellus’s shadows and smelling like cold night, old magic, and someone else’s panic.
Keres stepped out first.
Of course he did.
Blood on his mouth.
Grin sharp enough to make the nearest warrior take a step back.
Marcellus followed, looking bored and immaculate, which meant he had probably done something horrifying and was waiting for someone to appreciate the artistry.
Between them, wrapped in shadows from wrists to ankles, Rachel sobbed like the pathetic girl she had always been.
Fantastic.
I had hated her voice before.
The dungeon acoustics were going to make
