Chapter Thirty-Three
Caged
Lysandir paced the confines of the small chamber that held the Stariquenya. Its flickering, violet glow reflected against the dull, black stone that surrounded him.
The angry buzz that filled his mind and ears had become no more than background noise over the long centuries of his tenure as Saviadro’s ‘guest’. His crimson robes swirled around his boots as he walked. He scratched at the short, salt-and-pepper beard that covered his jaw. He might have gotten used to the sound of Saviadro’s tainted magic, but its presence still made him itch.
He was supposed to be communing with the Stariquenya. Saviadro had been pleased when Lysandir had suggested a standing appointment for that purpose—so pleased, he had agreed to leave Lysandir’s usual Forsworn sentries to ke
