Marina did not sleep.

She sat at the boundary stones until the grey beginning of dawn separated itself from the dark and then kept sitting, her shadow magic pushed down into the Grove's channels in the long slow sweep she did when she needed to think without the camp around her.

Silvain had gone back to the camp at her insistence. She had told him she needed to work through the ritual structure implications of what she had found in the Keep. That was true. It was not the whole truth.

The whole truth was that she needed to sit with what Obsidian had done and understand it fully before...