A cold hand suddenly pressed against his, and he opened his eyes to tell Asche to stand back—only to find no one there. No one that he could see, though he could still feel their touch. As if drawn by a familiar memory, even if it wasn’t theirs—and their vicious emotions flooded him. It wasn’t grief—it was anger. Resentment. Hatred. Squeezing his eyes closed, Saffron swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m here to help, Arrow,” he whispered. “Sorry it took so long.” Show me what Taran did to you.
