There’s another insistent knock at the door. “Fuck is he impatient,” I mutter. “You have about twenty seconds to ask a question, if I know him.” She blinks. “I’m still hoping that missive at Athebyne was really about the War Games. Do you think there’s any chance we just happened to end up in the middle of a wyvern attack at that outpost?” “That definitely wasn’t an accident, little sister,” he says from the doorway. I sigh and move to the side, watching Violet’s eyes widen as she sees him standing in the doorway. “Told you I knew better poison masters,” I tell her softly. “You weren’t healed.
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