Novel & Cerita Weaver Bonnie

"If it must be one of us, let it be me." Maya's gold eyes move from me to Cael, and the knife in her hand glows with the same light as the tree. Roran bends down and brings his mouth close to my ear. His breath is cold. "Run, little wolf," he says, and the voice he uses is Maya's. The roots snap around my wrists and pull my arms wide. The bone knife rises from Maya's hand on its own, floats toward my throat, and stops just close enough for me to feel the cold of it against my skin.