“I hope so,” Bidrizh nods and turns out to be right: the commander agrees to host the fugitives.

***

Larre's anger is so great that it crackles and heats up the air. Even his friend, Leni, backs away in fear, not risking looking into the gloomy gray angry eyes.

There is a crash as Tarrum kicks everything off the table. A crystal vase smashed on the floor rings, feathers and a folding paper knife fall, thick ink spills over the stone. North turns around and slams his fist into the wall.

“She ran away, Bidrij.

Leni doesn't dare to ask who, although she guesses, remembering the dark-haired woman who accompanied...