...tyle="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none;">Fools! he sneered, because the acrid stink of that pitiful small campfire should carry, even on the still night air, many miles, and bring those sniffing soldiers – if his sister had any say in it.

The horned moon shone down in the glade where Borysko lay. Nyssa de Silva knelt in moonlight by the sleeping man: she who once had turned a murderous conquering king. Here, she invoked very old magic. Daughter of the moon, her bared shoulders glowed, and she held Borysko’s heart beneath her hands.

Donovan finched – for she suddenly lifted her silvered eyes – evidently sensing him.