Sixteen
“Oryn?” The woman lowers her bow and arrow but doesn’t let go. I don’t move mine an inch. “Ryn, it’s really you!” With a smile, she steps forward. “Where have you—”
“Stop.” A knife appears in each of Ryn’s hands. “Show me your palm.”
She hesitates. Her smile slips. “Ryn, honey, I’m so relieved you weren’t hurt. We need to talk about—”
“Show me your palm.”
Her bow and arrow disappear, but she doesn’t raise her hand. “It isn’t what you think, Ryn. It isn’t what any of you think. Draven isn’t this evil overlord everyone is making him out to be. He wants the best for our world. He wants everyone to be united, both Seelie and Unseelie.”
“You’re marked, aren’t you?” Ryn says, his voice hitching slightly.
“I’m loyal to Draven, if that’s what you mean.” She raises her right hand so
