“Fill our wings with fair winds, Mother Belethea, till your solid ground is beneath our feet once more.” The cat trilled beside her, and Bex bowed her head, her voice barely a whisper. “Keep us safe.” The words sent an icy trickle down Ezren’s spine, a cold disquiet soaking into her skin. She sent up her own silent prayer that Foster was safe down there and that he would forgive her for leaving without him. “It’s okay, Hart,” Bex said, running a hand along the cat’s back. “He’ll understand.”
