Book 8: This Is Your Granddaughter

Evander

Ryatt only wanted to see me to tell me what I already know. 

I’m not leaving yet, but if it were up to him, I’d be on the next ship sailing out from Tarsian into the uncharted sea south of Eastonia with no return date. 

I’m needed. It’s the only reason I’m still in Moonrise. While Ryatt is the king, he has commanders to appease, and all of those commanders are currently fighting over who gets to use the Ghosts. 

“I’m not a fucking roofer,” Flynn groans, squinting against the sun as he drops another box of singles on the roof we’re currently patching. 

“You look the part,” Connor remarks from a few feet away, his brow damp with sweat and eyes shining in the setting sun. 

Flynn scowls and wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing tar across his cheek. “This is absolute bullshit. Where the fuck is Commander Artyom? I know this wasn’t his idea.”

Connor's eyes flicker to mine. He gives me