Pressing fingertips to tattooed temples, Olivare glared at the broad-shouldered woman looking repentant on the other side of the bar. By Lara’s omission of a particular golden owl being sighted the evening before, Arshad had slipped quietly into the city without Olivare’s notice. Plans she’d made, with regard to the Fallen Rose Prince, were now completely useless.
Goosebumps prickled her arms a mere moment before the man himself slipped inside the tavern. His fierce gilt eyes found hers, burning hotter than the Hellborne Sun.
Olivare’s eyes narrowed. She had not outrun nine Tavashanar to be dragged back to court.
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: owl, omission, rose)