The Devil From Deira
For a heartbeat, her face flickered with horror, then with something colder.
“Let him burn,” she murmured. “The fire cleanses all.”
But the wind carried her words back into the room, and in their echo was something like a curse.
In Adrian’s castle, the aftermath of battle had turned triumph into terror. The wounded filled the corridors; the banners were torn, blackened by smoke. Outside, the distant horizon still glowed faintly — another fire, another betrayal.
Juno’s cries broke the uneasy quiet.
She lay pale and trembling, her child swaddled beside her. Her eyes were wide, glassy, not with joy, but with something wild and unmoored.
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