Fiore’s voice felt small when she asked, “When is this... visit to the Silverwoods?” She could barely bring herself to say it, unsure of how to frame the looming trip. She didn’t know what to call their journey—to their enemies' home? Their home?
Daemon's gaze was steady as he replied, “A week from now. After your talk with them, we’ll meet the Silverwoods on the battlefield the next day. So,” his eyes sharpened, “you’d better master your abilities before that, Fiore.”
The weight of his words settled heavily on her chest, and Fiore’s throat tightened. A week. That was all the time she had to figure out her powers, to bend them to her will, and somehow wield them against Reginald. The thought of facing him, with or without control, sent a chill down her spine. Could she compel him to surr
