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The black wolf sniffed the air and then stepped closer, padding across the snow. It lifted its head, ears alert, and snarled at her. Jeren flinched back. Rowan crosses to the table and leans over his nieces head. Painfully, he jabs the tip of his bandaged right hand at the keyboard, thumping in a name. Google that, he whispers to Snowdrop. “Then Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, anything new and funky I havent heard of. Use Sheehan too. The darkness bled away and with it went the Fell. The room, scattered with prone bodies, looked like some kind of death pit. But slowly they stirred, Indarin, Leithen, Vertigern, Naul. A low growl erupts at the back of his throat. He curses, pissed off with himself. Each time he ends a relationship he promises himself the same– that he wont let fantasies undo him; that he wont spurn reality in pursuit of some idealised daydream. He keeps telling himself to focus on the here. On the now. He cant help thinking that being an early reader did him no favours. He grew up a Romantic, retreating into the pleasures offiction even as the facts of his reality became harder and harder. Well have to agree to disagree on that point. Killing Christian would satisfy a need inside me. If I couldnt find Emma, then killing myself would stop the nightmares. She shrugs, a little embarrassed.They were going to go mouldy. The Fellna rage surged up in his throat like oil. He tried to fight it, to push it down and take back control, but he was losing the battle. His own anger and outrage conspired with it, fuelling it. Darkness blossoming, growing, taking over. It filled him. My thanks. Jeren inclined her head. Indarin backed off but she waited until he was gone again to breathe a sigh of relief. Did he believe that? So she was hiding behind formality. Jeren couldnt blame her. Even she wasnt sure of all that had happened while she was captured by the Shimmering. Shan had told her though—about Indarin, about Devyn. Before she had become their leader, Lara had been passionate and impulsive, almost reckless. And she had idolised Indarin. Jeren could sense the conflict in her now, the dreadful pull between what she wanted and what she had to do that Jeren understood far too well. Though she knew the way, she let the Ariah lead her nonetheless. It was more than an honour, it was one friend offering comfort to another in the only way she could at themoment, and Jeren couldnt deny Lara that. It is still you, she said at last. I reached for the door handle.Once I find my daughter, I am going to kill Christian Salyer. Lara bowed her head, her long hair covering her face from view.Of course I do. But I thought... Her fingers worried together in front of her. Oh yes? asks Eve, conversationally. Who? Unlike me. It sounded like a dreadful confession, some deep and terrible sin he had to share. Jeren stared at him, opened her mouth, but couldnt say anything. Unlike him. Yes, perhaps. She hadnt meant it like that but still— Shan shook his head.Let her be for now. Well take her to Leithen. Doria needed time with her grief, to let it fully form, to let the understanding that Devyn was gone take root. Hed seen it before. Whereas Leithen—gentle soul that he was inside, a Roh by marriage rather than blood—would need his children around him now, to give him purpose. Just as they needed him. Everyone handled grief differently. He recalled the days following his sisters death, the way he and Indarin had reacted. So different. And now, Indarin was dying, and he was playing nursemaid. I want to, Shan. I want to. Like what? asks Violet, brightly. Thats Catherine Marlish, yes? There was no denying her beauty, terrible though it might be. Her black hair snaked down her back, strands coiling out to blend with the darkness she carried around her. Her slender figure was lithe and strong, sensuously curved. And her nails slid out of her fingertips like assassins blades..