13He’d said Isabeau. My real name . . . my old name. It sounded so right on his lips. When he said Iliana, it didn’t give me that oh-so-pleasing tremor like when he said Isabeau.
“So, let’s try this again, since I was obviously unsuccessful three nights ago.” Gideon took a large sheet of parchment paper, which Liam passed over from the sideboard, and pushing aside his plate, rolled it out between us. It was a diagram. A much more artfully drawn one than the hastily penned counterpart he’d presented to me on the napkin at our first meeting downstairs. It looked something akin to a family tree. “I think it may also prove helpful having representation of the roles present.”
I watched as he pointed to the bottom twig of one of the numerous branches displayed on the chart.
He read, “Coimhdea
