Two women standing near the edge of the midway beneath a cluster of floating lanterns.
One wore a green sweater and horn-rimmed glasses.
Human.
Or mostly human.
The other—my instincts sharpened instantly.
Witch.
Powerful enough that I felt her before fully seeing her.
Elegant dark coat.
Silver jewelry.
Sharp posture.
Cold.
Everything about the older female radiated coldness.
Amrin froze beside me.
The sudden spike of emotion through the bond hit instantly.
Shock.
Fear.
Old hurt.
My body reacted before conscious thought caught up.
I moved slightly in front of her automatically.
Protecting.
Always protecting.
The older woman’s gaze landed on us.
Then on our joined hands.
Then on the faint lunar marks still glowing softly beneath Amrin’s skin from the claiming ritual.
Disapproval flashed across her face so quickly most beings would have missed it.
I did not.
My instincts turned ugly immediately.
Mine.
The possessive growl nearly escaped my throat.
Beside me, Amrin went very still.
