Menelik’s Point of View
Patience was a luxury I was running out of.
I leaned against the rough-hewn timber of my hut, watching the mist roll off the neutral ground like a funeral shroud. Somewhere across that border, the Eclipse Star was being picked apart by a parasite, and the woman I had searched years for was being drained of her very soul to fund the feast.
I’d watched the packhouse for days. I’d seen what Vance and his rogue inflicted on Amani. It was a pure insult. Every time they had s*x, a piece of Amani withered. I could smell the decline in her scent, the way the vibrant, forest-pine aroma of her spirit was being replaced by clinical exhaustion.
Zebub wasn’t just a mistress, I could tell she was an executioner. She was pulling the strings of a triangle bond as it fit her pla
