Crimson Heir

lled her hood tighter. Bran was always colder at twilight, but tonig

st it. Even her aunt, Elena, who usually had more wine than worries, had gripped her w

ask who they w

e the trees. Wolves ran the western hills - silent, silver-eyed shadows i

the mossy clearing, the heartbeat of a bird in the tree above. Her senses had been sh

choed be

pun a

hat had forgotten how to rain. He wore black - not the kind from a store, but o

mp

passing," he

ered, trying to keep h

ot from any of the houses. W

ed, her pulse a war drum. She stepped

ront of her

ga

his voice more curious than angry

. A violet-blue glow pulsed from her

id, blinking.

aunt - about the spell she'd accidentally set ablaze last week or

at I am," Maxine

a long moment, then

more dangerou