Wingtorn | Faery Ink Press

He smiled curiously down at Riona, as if this was a kind of joke. “Does he know?”

His eyebrows lifted. His lips parted slightly. A nod. An agreement passed between them as she held out her hand.

This was no dream. The fae had come for her.

“I don’t want you to think of something,” she said tiredly. “I just wanted you to know.”

He planned. He trained. He waited with purpose until the guards showed weakness.

“You’ll have a more difficult time arresting me,” she warned him coolly.

“So names are important. But what about deeds, and quality of character?”

“Is…he all right in there?” Connor asked hoarsely, emptily feeling the question descend into a void from which there was no escape.

The anger. It boiled her. Gave her strength. Power. She felt the rush of it pump through her veins, sharpening her vision as she took in the boy who had the audacity to assume he controlled—

Someone was screaming. And that someone wasn’t human.