LERRIN
An hour later the tent was dark, all lanterns extinguished. The camp was quiet in the hours of sleep—but there was no sleep to come for Lerrin.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of the tent, swinging back and forth between anger and fear.
Suhle hadn't run from the tent. He had to reassure himself with that—though the temptation to pull the screen back and make sure she hadn't somehow magicked her way out without him knowing was fierce. But he wouldn't do it to her. He'd promised her she'd have her own space, and he would keep his word.
His word.
Since sending that memory to her, he'd been turning it over in his mind and the thing that kept catching his attention was the moment Reth pleaded with him not to vow. Not to bind himself to an oath to kill.
He'd thought at the time it was just the Cat's self-serving righteousness—always painting himself as the good male, the wise one.
