And Costellic?
Out here, away from the false net of security he’d tried to weave for her, there was no avoiding the truth: she’d come to rely on him because he’d wanted her to.
He was using me.
For what?
That look on his face, moments before she’d taken her leave … what was that?
It wasn’t anger. Not exactly.
Anger was a flash. This was the cold, slow simmer of a deep-rooted fuse.
Corin Costellic was her sanctioned general. She’d handed him the reins of her army, her city, and its future.
That fuse was now crackling toward the surface.
And she’d left him to combust.