“I would love to. Alistair, I sense war is close, and . . . truthfully, this may be the last time I get to see you.” She had no qualms about the possibility of her own death. She was not King Beartooth, but Lucaya would be after her head. Irina was siding with Lucaya’s enemy. She was going to assist Beartooth. No doubt Hawthorne, Dawnshire and Amberbjorne would have wolves going for her hide.
If they even knew of the alliance.
Fade in, fade out
Irina breathed deeply. She shook her head in response to Alistair’s words. “No need to thank me so much,” she said with a wry smile. It dropped away as a sudden chill came over her with the cool wind. It reeked of hostilities, of anger. You weren’t a storm Elemental without being able to draw information from the wind.
“Tarben,” she whispered, as if she was in a trance. Maybe she was. The anger, the bloodthirstiness, the hostility. It took her in its jaws. “Hawthorne. It’s boiling over.” The stiffness of the wind’s demeanor caressed her lightly. Gods of the skies, it was happening. She closed her eyes. No brushing off the inevitable.
It’s here.
"The truth takes time." Pyro, Kruam, & Kára - Nadia
49
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