Icy, flat words. The perfect accompaniment to the expression on her face. I simply waited. Nesta waited, too. Still as an animal. Still as death. I’d once wondered if that was her power. Her curse, granted by the Cauldron. Nothing I’d seen of it, glimpsed in those moments against Hybern, had seemed like death. Just brute power. But the Bone Carver had whispered of it. And I’d seen it, shining cold and bright in her eyes.
