Yrene let out a small sound at the sight of the gagged and bound Healer on High seated on a golden throne. But it was the woman standing beside the healer, a knife resting on her round belly, that made Chaol’s blood go cold. Duva. The khagan’s now-youngest daughter. She smiled at them as they approached—and the expression was not human. It was Valg.
KYLE WAS RIGHT. DANG. HIM.
