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Summary
"The boy. Coen of Laslea. Find him, learn his secrets, and make note of his allies. When the time comes, bring them to me."
A thousand years as Brencis's Spymaster has prepared Lucia for many things. Blood. Carnage. The endless hellscape where she, like all of her kind, will eventually find herself.
Nothing, though, could have prepared her for a freshly turned Dawnwalker with a vendetta against the monster who made her.
Coen of Laslea is inexperienced, reckless, and far more dangerous than anyone could have anticipated. It should have been easy. Track him down, gain his trust, and then serve him up to her maker on a silver platter. She'd done it plenty of times before.
If only the little bastard wasn't so fucking endearing.