“Jarl,” I said, heat in my cheeks. “Forgive me, it has been . . . a busy day.” Jarl stalked into the room, holding no trinket of affection, nothing to impress me with. He wore his black military gambeson over crimson fatigues. His eyes held a bright spark of amusement when he sat across from me.
Maybe Jarl is the Blood Wraith. This I can get behind
