Hana didn't answer. She didn't even look at him. She watched as Caspian and Kulu touched down, the wind from their landing kicking up a storm of dust.
Tarrot, a lean warrior with a sneer, looked at Kulu and barked a harsh, mocking laugh.
"Look at our Prince. He was so pathetic that he couldn't even get Lira to look at him, so he went for a piece of trash. A lowly and weak human. Tell me, Kulu, does she smell like the dirt she crawls on?"
Hana's eyes narrowed. The word trash echoed in her mind, igniting a cold, white-hot fury she usually kept under lock and key.
Kulu's face went pale with rage, his hand moving to the bone dagger at his hip. "Tarrot, watch your tongue. She is—"
"She is nothing," Manel interrupted with a deep voice, stepping forward to flank Tarrot. "She is a temporary plaything. A land-walker with no pride. To think you'd choose a spider of trash over a Saint."
