At the echo of footsteps coming down toward the workshop, Kamira tensed, and Koshmarnyk immediately took a fighting stance. She drew energy, but when Veelk entered, both she and the adept relaxed. The two men exchanged nods, and then Veelk walked over to her. The nightfly tucked under his belt freed itself and made for her wrist, coiling.
“Almost everyone except the queen is dead,” he said while she looked him over in search of wounds. “But I fought a skilled warrior, and he ran away.”
“Phuran,” Alluvendran muttered. “He’s trouble.”
Veelk nodded. “We have to go. The woods are crawling with Gildya’s people. It seems that they are looking for you.” He inspected the prisoners, his eyes skimming the dead woman and stopping on Pelina, who shrank under his gaze so much that she dared not make
