“Violet Sorrengail!” Colonel Aetos shouts from the doorway, his face a mottled shade of red as his narrowed eyes search the briefing room. “Here.” Bracing my hands on the edges of my seat to fight a sudden wave of dizziness, I rise to stand as four riders follow Aetos in. “Vi,” Rhiannon whispers. “No one say a damned thing,” I reply under my breath. “I’ll be fine.” “You are hereby charged with high treason against the kingdom of Navarre!” Maybe not.
