PREVIEW
... craped across every half-healed nerve in Mikhailis’s body. She sounded like a bard reciting nursery rhymes—except every note reminded him exactly which song she was echoing: the breathy cadence of two priestesses singing his name a short hour ago.
I’m surrounded by wolves, he decided, pulse drumming behind his ears—half-terrified, half-thrilled. Outside, the dusk-blue scenery rolled by in gentle rhythm, but inside the coach felt like the tight deck of a warship in heavy seas. Velvet curt ...
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