Chapter Twenty Five
Llandry couldn’t move. When she tried, the world tilted and fell and she fell with it. She suffered nausea so intense she could only lie in the damp moss and clutch her belly, waiting to vomit. The winged daefly-thing flew into her face, beating at her with its tissue-paper wings. She ignored it. The pain and nausea seemed a fitting end to the events of that day. But Devary’s face rose in her mind’s eye, fighting against dangerous odds, his attackers closing in around him. She pictured him bloodied and weak, wounded, even killed. The image was enough to force her to her knees, then to her feet.
The world swam before her eyes and she closed them. She felt wings against her face again.
‘Stop that,’ she muttered. ‘I’m up.’ She caught the thing carefully in her hands and
