As the Eagles ascended the stairs behind them, Omerin chuckled, saying to Renwick, “I bet you have your hands full with that one.” “Indeed.” Renwick’s voice was low and hollow, no mirth in his reply. Aneryn nudged Rua with her shoulder, whispering, “That was amazing.” “I didn’t like the way she looked at you.” Rua shrugged, eyes skimming over the opulent room, from the oil paintings to the golden chandeliers. These fae had probably never felt discomfort or hunger or fear. “I’m used to those looks,” Aneryn murmured, “but Mother Moon was it fun to see you tear down Lady Mallen like that.” Rua
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