Noctisardor Bypass sacred

morwenna nodded once.

not dismissal—recognition.

she did not press. did not ask her to spill what had been earned with blood and years. good, she thought. a woman who kept her trades close tended to survive the season.

then he will judge with his eyes, not my words, morwenna said evenly. "that is his way."

her gaze held dione’s a moment longer—measured, unthreatened.

the frost will decide the rest. when heat comes, no one waits. not men, not women.

a pause, deliberate.

the fangs must grow, no matter the custom, however. as long as the man you pick is strong, there needn't be nothing else.