The day she left, she had given him a Bone Whistle.
The Bone Whistle was consecrated with her blood, so if someone else held it and called for her, Nerida would be able to sense it.
But Nerida never expected that the man would actually use the Bone Whistle to find her.
The sound was so faint.
There was only one possibility: Young Lord Aeron was in danger. Considering what she had done to him, he would never have sought her out unless it was truly a matter of life and death.
Thinking of Young Lord Aeron, an image of his clean, pure eyes and his handsome face unconsciously surfaced in Nerida's mind. His gentle gaze, his solid chest, and even the way his long hair fell over his shoulder when he blushed. It felt as if it were still brushing against her cheek.
Her hands paused.
A trace of awkwardness appeared on her flamboyant, beautiful face.
She shook her head slightly, pushing the unusual feelings aside. 'This isn't the time for that. I have to save him first.'
