“You’ve met him before. He’s Fenrys—sworn warrior of Queen Maeve.” It was the narrowing of Manon’s eyes that had some instinct pricking. The flare of the witch’s nostrils as she scented the male, his smell barely detectable in the cramped cabin— “No, he’s not,” Manon said. The witch’s iron nails flashed out a heartbeat before Fenrys struck.
What?!?!
