A violet wing unfurled from the girl, nearly twice the width of her body, with fringed ends and a translucent white center. Then another, on the other side: her left wing was torn and only half there.
She smiled at him strangely, and he felt an internal tug of magic—as if a look was all it took for her to know everything about him.
“We could save lives and prevent another war. We don’t want to create more veterans.”
He felt the ghost of her grip on his mind, urging him to follow her off the road, through the trees…and beyond.
“Why me, your majesty?” Fingal said.
She seemed surprised he’d asked. “Because, dear one. You have the heart of a man who does what he’s told.”
Forget the books. She would raze the whole library if it meant keeping Connor—and even his family—safe. It was the good thing to do.