Qeya River But you can do a kindness and look me in the eyes

Though Etienne did not see it that way, Anselm found poisoning a doomed wolf incredibly pragmatic. Cut the rot by the stem, before it infected the flower. You had to. She could have killed them if you did not. The tone was far from reassuring, but condemnation was entirely absent from the gold glint of Anselm’s eyes.

A shiver ran the full length of his body at Etienne’s final words. Something terrible had happened, and Anselm knew exactly who. Yeah. Amadeo. He grit his teeth. Which was worse? That snake loose out in the wilderness, or tucked to Heda’s side like a siphoning leech?

And moreover how did Anselm feel about Heda, learning her soul had gone rudderless and her eyes flat?

He vacillated between savage indifference and anger. Heda had chosen Amadeo over him. She purportedly hadn’t even gone looking for him, which stung Anselm so deeply he could not form words to express it. He felt demeaned by Amadeo’s rough handling and forceful exile — but it was Heda’s ultimate indifference that made Anselm wish to dissolve into absolute nothing.

It had all been for nothing. Those hard months in the bypass. The fraught but tentative interactions. He’d never wanted this life , but he had done it for them. Now he knew there was no purpose to being loyal, for it had earned him nothing but betrayal and loss.

You said they vould be at the hunt?