Occasionally, Prisca’s aunt saw her as little more than a tool to wield against their enemies. I recognized it, because my brother had used me the same way since I’d reached nine winters. The difference was that I was a born killer. Prisca was a born protector. And if Telean thought I would allow her to break Prisca and mold her into a weapon, she would soon learn differently. Telean glanced at me, her eyebrows lifting at whatever she saw on my face. I watched her until she looked away.
