Vernon’s face went the color of spoiled milk. “You mean to leave me in their hands, utterly defenseless?” “I was defenseless when you let my leg remain unhealed,” she said, a steady sort of calm settling over her. “I was a child then, and I survived. You’re a grown man.” She let her lips curl in another smile. “We’ll see if you do, too.” She didn’t try to hide her limp as she strode out. As she caught Lorcan’s eye and beheld the pride gleaming there. Not a whisper—not one whisper from that voice who had guided her. Not from fear, but … Perhaps she did not need Anneith, Lady of Wise Things.
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