***
The woman's name was Marietta, and by her accounts, she was at least two hundred years old. The longer Adaria stood in her presence, the more she marveled at how beautiful she was. She seemed to glow with an iridescent light of her own, and it made the entire cottage seem even brighter than it actually was.
They were seated at the table, and Marietta had a curious look in her eyes as she watched Adaria’s every movement. The latter, meanwhile, was wondering if perhaps there was something funny on her face. Behind them, the others sat, changed into clean outfits and waiting for Sir Bernard to finish preparing the food.
“You remind me of him,” Marietta said. “There’s so much about him that I see in you.”
“My grandfather?” Adaria asked.
“Malik was a dear friend of mine,” she said w
