Chapter 26
IN THE MORNING, Isandor still sat huddled under his cloak at the tent entrance. His legs were stiff from sitting in this position all night, and his arm ached from clutching the dagger.
He didn’t think Jevaithi, in the tent, had slept much. He had heard her cry and he’d ached to comfort her, but he didn’t dare leave his post. She’d been right; they weren’t safe. He still shuddered at that moment of panic, when the shadow had loomed over him, the horror of feeling the shorthair cloak under his hands. By the skylights, these were Knights. Not only that, they were hunters.
But when the light grew from blue to white to pink, he was happy to see that the rogues with their van had indeed gone. He’d heard an engine after the attack, but it had been too dark to be certain. Additional
