The night air outside the Sanctuary of Scars was sharp enough to cut. The bridge had been blown, a distant roar that still echoed through the valley, leaving a thick haze of smoke to mask their departure.
The exiles were moving in a silent line toward the higher ridges, but Lucian had separated them from the group. He didn't trust the others especially not Kaelen to keep their eyes off Lyra. He had secured a single, massive black stallion, a beast that looked more like a nightmare than a horse, its eyes glowing with a faint, reflected violet.
"I can walk, Lucian," Lyra whispered, shivering as the wind whipped through her thin cloak.
"No." Lucian didn't argue. He simply gripped her waist and lifted her onto the saddle as if she weighed nothing. He swung up behind her, his large frame surrounding her, pulling her back against his chest until there wasn't a breath of space left between them.
