“They’re not.” Mom delivers a full lecture with a simple look. “Cut open the bodies of the wyvern who died crossing your border yesterday.” My lips part. “Whyever would you think I’d be ignorant of activities on your border, Violet? Ignorant of where my daught—children are?” She shakes her head and dresses me down with a quick, cutting glance that makes me instantly feel like I’m five again before turning to Mira. “You remember what the carcasses of the wyvern looked like at Samara? The ones Riorson so kindly delivered?”
