![]() ![]() The back of the backpack was missing and the green strands burrowed straight into the Draziri’s flesh.īile shot into my throat. The seed lay inside, a light brown sphere about the size of a basketball lit from within by magic, cradled in a net woven of wet greenish strands. She opened her backpack and leaned toward me. She seemed delicate and fragile and I had the distinct impression that if I punched her, her bones would shatter. The same design of silvery threads as the one Kiran Mrak wore decorated her forehead, which meant they were related. ![]() She was young, probably still a teenager, with intense blue eyes, a cream-colored face, and a long mane of pale feathery hair that darkened to deep lavender at the ends. How the hell had the Draziri even found one? ![]() It meant a new inn to be nurtured and grown. We had a big dinner and my parents were so happy. It wasn’t ours, but we celebrated for three days. I was a little girl the last time an inn produced a seed. ![]() Sometimes we got two in a century sometimes only one. The inn seeds weren’t just rare they were almost nonexistent. The seed was a living thing, a little baby Gertrude Hunt just waiting to be planted. If anything happened to me, she would keep the guests safe. She was watching my every move from the inside. She wanted to go down herself, but I won. ![]()
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