and on to the glory at my right hand
Ronin is asleep - and then he isn’t. Given the Taliesins’ respective travels through the years, he’s learned to fall into slumber almost anywhere, and this new (but old, and rickety) houseboat is no exception. Only as his eyes become accustomed to the darkness that isn’t, his blue eyes flick to the bracelet on his wrist and dread grows like a ball of ice in the pit of his stomach.
Sitting abruptly, blinking at the edge of the bed, he resists the urge to reach for Artemide as if the bird might be Safrin in disguise. Instead, swallowing hard, he rakes a hand back through his hair and finds his voice. ”Is she back?”
Sitting abruptly, blinking at the edge of the bed, he resists the urge to reach for Artemide as if the bird might be Safrin in disguise. Instead, swallowing hard, he rakes a hand back through his hair and finds his voice. ”Is she back?”
ronin
