I don’t want to do this. I can’t think of anything to say. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.Except Meera’s right. This is unacceptable. I’ve been silent too long. The old Bec wouldn’t have tolerated such disrespectful treatment. I remember when I addressed the men of my village and insisted they let me go with Goll and the others on their mission to find out where Bran came from. Conn — our king — was against it, but I stood firm. If I can stare down a king and tell him what I think, I can certainly face Dervish.The door to his study is open. I enter, rapping on the heavy wood as I go in. The room is protected from strangers by spells. Dervish never taught me the spells, but I found them easy to break. I don’t have the power I experienced when I first came back to life — the cave was filled with energy that I could tap into — but I’m much more advanced than any present-day mage.Dervish is reading a book about werewolves. Someone in our family bred with demons many generations ago.
