Rebecca's pov

Parties scattered rogues, some whispering my name, others cursing it, and it hung in the night like smoke. My tongue was still scorching from what I had said, and my skin felt like iron and fire.

Michael's Luna.

The phrase was heavier than armor and sharper than any blade I had ever used. It hung on me like molten armor. At one shaky moment, I had imagined that they were touching water like a shield, and I had spoken them honestly. That he would come forward, remove ...