The battlefield still smoked, the scent of charred flesh and blood heavy in the air. Warriors moved slowly among the fallen, checking for survivors, their faces pale with shock. The Queen’s fire had destroyed most of the rogues, but the memory of their leader’s laughter clung like a curse.
Zaria sat slumped against a rock, her cloak wrapped tightly around her trembling frame. Her skin was clammy, her pulse faint, but her eyes burned with a quiet defiance. She would not let them see her weakness, not when the fight was only beginning.
Damian paced like a caged beast, his blade still dripping with blood. Every few strides his gaze snapped to her, sharp with anger he didn’t bother to conceal. “Reckless. Utterly reckless,” he muttered. “Do you want to burn yourself into an early grave?”
“I
