Morningside Cuesta ouska

Etienne's silence drew Anselm's attention. The seaborn's expression said enough.

Heda's voice had unusual sharpness to it. Anselm mentally recoiled to be exposed to so callous an edge; did she truly not care if the man that potentially sired her children lived or died? And where did that place him?

Leave, stay, leave again. The whirlwind complexities of Heda's temper bewildered Anselm. First she asked him and Etienne to stay, and now she pushed them all away again.

Was it for Druid, or her?

How would leaving her behind solve any problem? She was so thin Anselm marveled she even produced milk for the six budding lives at her breast.

Heda stalked past with sodden bird in tow. A wisp of smoke stung Anselm's gaze as he watched her go. He wanted to call her out right then and there and ask, what was the purpose of asking them to stay only to change her mind again? He was not disposable. Etienne was not disposable. And yet, they were whipped around like a pair of reeds in a wild summer storm.

Fiona spoke, suggesting something that had occurred to Etienne but not to Anselm. He did not care for the idea. It went against his twisted ideation of what being a man was. Do you think he vill stop for a bite to eat before he bashes our brains in? He barbed, unable to hold back his tongue. Ve have no choice.

The spot along his shoulder and neck throbbed still from the press of Glaukos' teeth. Resentment burned at the pit of his stomach as he recalled how handily he'd been thrown around.