Avaren;
"She's weakening faster." One of them says, and the irritation that settles into me at those words is immediate.
I stand silently in the containment chamber as mana hums heavily through the walls around us.
The spell holding Alana in place crackles softly at the centre of the room, and even from here, I can feel the instability beginning to creep into it.
It's annoying. Very annoying.
I tilt my head slightly toward the witch who spoke as my index finger taps against the inside of my other elbow.
"How much faster?" I ask, and there's hesitation.
I hate that.
"It's… difficult to calculate exactly," she answers carefully, and I lift a brow.
"Bram is using too much of her life force to maintain the disguise."
Of course he is. I exhale slowly.
"He was instructed to remain hidden whenever possible," I note. Because not only did I give him that order, I asked them to tell him that, as well.
