![]() ![]() ![]() As the breathing symbol of his fallen family, perhaps Beltza thought it her duty to keep a watchful eye on the last Otxoa in existence. She’d been Luca’s shadow since the Otxoa supporters’ arrival. Beltza, the black wolf, watched from the trees on the far side of the meadow. She had dreamed of today for ages, but troubles still nipped at her, and the most soothing combination in the world was the movement of her body and a dimpled smile on Luca’s face. To work out her nerves, her thoughts, her feelings-all the inconveniences she often kept buried so deep. Whenever she had too much on her mind, all Amarande needed was Luca and a good fight. HIGH in the hills of Ardenia, a queen and a king met swords in the meadow they’d always called theirs.Īmarande and Luca each wore chest plates and pained grins, color flush in their cheeks as they sparred with blunt blades as they’d done for years. ![]()
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