LOREN
The thorn pricked Ronin, which at least meant the other man stopped beating Loren up and rolled off the Launceleyn. For his part, he dismissed the siren and lifted a hand with a pained groan and plucked one of the earplugs out, managing to catch the tail end of the king’s words. ”R-Ronin?” It came out in a breathy whisper: the summoner was still winded from the earlier blow to his sternum. Tears sprang to Loren’s eyes. He couldn’t say if it was because he wasn’t sure if the Rose had worked its magic, or if it was because it had and this was the other man’s reaction.A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
