Akhet

Except—Medusa's boy was still captured. His boy was still captured—

So was it really, truly a victory?

He ought not to be here, and the wrath of Akashingo would surely come down upon his stupid skull. But he had come to White Witch's aid, for better or worse, and he intended to see the task through. Even if it meant insubordination. Even if it meant. . .

Vasya shook himself, casting the thought of death aside for now. Rashepses droned on, talking of gods and rituals that were blasphemous to the Svartravn's ears. He was no stranger to rousing religious speeches; he'd been trained to deploy them, and had heard them from others many a time.

This, though, seemed. . .excessive?

The burly man blended into the shadows in which he stood, never far from Medusa's side. His pale green eyes shifted from wolf to wolf, watching. . .waiting. . .

Wondering. . .when he could get the hell out of here.