Damon’s POV

They said grief makes a man reckless. I told myself that as I walked to the priestess’s hut, but the moon was a thin coin and grief had teeth that day. I felt the ache from the battle hollowing my gut like an unhealed bite.

Aria’s face kept coming up, small and fierce, with a new thinness, pressing her thumb to her mouth when worried, staring at the fire and not always seeing it. That night at the doorway, when the candles went out, I still tasted smoke.

The Moon Priestess ...