The corners of her mouth twitched toward a smile. A silver leash, gleaming in the sun, ran from her left wrist to the neck of a woman in gray, a damane, who trotted beside the sul'dam's horse like a pet dog. She was not superstitious, but. Eyes fell and blushes rose.
Merilille's face was more icy than serene, and Sareitha grimaced before she could stop herself. They could not ask for pleasanter than that. They must be done away with. She must be the woman they had come for, the Windfinder.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.