I've been threatened by men my whole life. This was the first time the threat had feathers.
I stood over that dead bird for a long moment after Ronan's warning settled in, feeling something shift inside me that had less to do with fear and more to do with a cold, clarifying anger. I'd spent weeks now being protected, hidden, moved from cabin to compound to backroad like a piece of luggage passed carefully between hands that all agreed I was too fragile to be trusted with my own defense.
I thought about the elder in that council chamber, calling me a liability to my face. I thought about every moment since the fire where someone else had decided, on my behalf, what I could handle and what needed to be kept from me for my own good. I was done being managed. If I was going to be a target ei
