Wings boomed, and then Abraxos was landing on the balcony. A white-haired rider atop him. Dorian stood, blinking, as Manon Blackbeak dismounted. She scanned him, then the dark stain on the balcony stones. Her golden eyes lifted to his. Weary, heavy—yet glowing. “Hello, princeling,” she breathed. A smile bloomed on his mouth. “Hello, witchling.”
ANOTHER REUNION I WAS WAITING FOR!! 🥹
