smirking like a cat.” “Why should I believe you?” “Because you are wearing Lorcan’s shirt, and Rowan Whitethorn’s cloak. If you do not believe me, inform them who told you and they will.” Elide cocked her head to the side. Essar said softly, “Lorcan and I were involved for a time.” They were in the midst of war, and had traveled for thousands of miles to find their queen, and yet the tightness that coiled in Elide’s gut at those words somehow found space. Lorcan’s lover. This delicate beauty with a bedroom voice had been Lorcan’s lover.
