Previously… (1) There Will Be War
Thrusting aside the tent flap, Luke stepped cautiously into Morgan’s tent. She had an inconvenient habit of testing him, but today her Maolarian blades were stowed, and she was standing casually beside her desk, with her damn crow on her wrist. Luke trusted her to the Seven Hells and back, but the bird could rot.
Stroking the crow’s painted wing, Morgan said something in the guttural language only the two of them understood, and adjusted the maps on her desk.
She eyed him. “Quindar will seek vindication.”
“Blood for blood,” Luke agreed.
“The Queen is still in hand?”
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: vindicate, paint, crow)