The aura Selaphiel radiated gave even Lugh pause. Something primal stirred in the air—pressure, fury, and an ancient sharpness that made the back of his neck prickle. He had to act before she killed him. She could. She very well could.
It wasn't an obligation—Lugh wasn't driven by that—but the Prince had acted only under Lugh's guided hand. This display all stemmed from Lugh's manipulation.
Wittman was just a prop, a victim of careful orchestration. And that was all there was to it.
He couldn't allow him to die for that. However, recent revelations were inconvenient.
The Prince might have been part of the group. The group. The strange, elusive, deadly one that had nearly killed Lugh not long ago.
In that case, leaving the Prince to Selaphiel's wrath would be no challenge. No guilt. No weight.
But there was still a margin of error.
Wittman could have been innocent. Misguided. A puppet manipulated by someone smarter, someone more hidden.
