Valtira.
Anger bubbled up instantly inside me, hot and sharp, spreading through my chest like wildfire. My hands tightened around the reins of my horse until my knuckles turned pale, gripping them as though they were the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
Which, in truth, they were.
Martina’s eyes darted upward and locked onto mine, lingering there with unsettling intensity. She kept watching me — studying me — even while Draven questioned her, as if I were the only thing anchoring her to consciousness.
“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Draven asked, his voice low with concern as his hands gently clasped her arms to steady her.
The horse beneath me snorted and tossed its head, hooves shifting restlessly against the dirt as tension rippled through the air.
“Are you—” Draven bega
