Dragoncrest Cliffs the purloined letter

the musical way in which Ashlar's child-mother fills her with unreasonable rage. every pretty syllable over her perfect tongue—and her ire grows further as a denial comes, albeit paired with a promise to help heal and protect and watch over the Rise—

her Rise—

her face must be stone cold as she stares at the young woman. soft, like the man she'd ensnared. her gaze shifts briefly to strong Erzulie, scarred Rosalyn.

they would have fought with her. clearly, though, the guard has changed.

well, Avicus says, with an air of grave finality. the savage desire to eviscerate Chacal for her refusal curdles briefly in her own guts, then subsides, sinking like a rock. no help here. and Aventus and his sons gone, too.

we 'hhank you, she manages, addressing all three women. we will be back.

before she leaves, she lingers, waiting for any last pleasantries from the old mated pair or—God help her—Sapphique's new instrument of peace.