“We need it alive!” I hiss up ahead to the beneather. Malachite’s chuckle is like his old self, before he knew of my betrayal—golden and cheeky. “And I clearly need a raise. But here we are.” “Mal—” “If you think a few neck stabs will kill it, then I’m the spiritsdamn Emperor of Pendron.” He sighs. “I’m aware killing Varia’s pet would be the best way to book myself a caravan ticket back to Pala Amna and away from Lucien. So relax.”
