The sword chose her. That was the problem.
Sienna had spent her life running taverns and chasing unpaid bar tabs—not dragons. But the glowing blade in her grip didn’t care about her résumé. It whispered her real name, the one her mother had hidden.
Now the sky was cracking open, the armies of the Hollow marched west, and every seasoned warrior was bowing to the barmaid with the glowing blade.
Sienna sighed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
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Bear
“What I wouldn’t give to be back in the the Wet Bear,” she thought. Even the company of loud mouth drunks with roaming hands and breath that could stop a horse in its tracks would be better than this.
Bear
“It doesn’t matter.” The voice is gravelly and tired. She turns to face the stranger that had somehow gotten so close without her notice. He was tall and she had to look up at him. His smile seemed somehow sincere yet not joyful. “What you want,” he says. “It doesn’t matter now.” He glances at the sword. “You have a master now,” he says.