Chapter Twelve
The Spoils of War
Iadrawyn surveyed the circle of leaders seated around her in hushed conversation with a tremendous sense of weariness. The command tent she shared with Valanandir had been cleared of all other items to make room for this gathering. Only a single day had passed since the fall of Saviadro. Without his protective cloud and commanding presence, his minions had retreated to the protection of their own lands to the north, which were still covered by lingering shadow.
It had taken all of Iadrawyn’s strength just to push the cloud bank back to the Mountains of Fire. Between the mental toll of that task, and the sudden loss of Malarin, she felt raw and hollow inside, like a freshly scraped gourd.
She knew she and Valanandir were not the only ones to have lost a
