Little dove … Wait. I stiffened in place. ‘Em?’ Creon muttered. Little dove. My thoughts unravelled, or rather slammed together in entirely new ways – that cursed nickname, Alyra, Zera’s doves cooing around my feet … and then I was fighting with the buckle of my sword, the new leather of the belt still stiff and unobliging. Even in the dim light of this basement, the weapon’s alf steel and mother-of-pearl gleamed white and clear as I shook it into my hands, its weight growing familiar already, its balance perfect. You’ll know, Tared had said. All of a sudden, that seemed a perfectly reasonable
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