For a long moment nobody in that chamber moved, the revelation hanging heavy in air still thick with the smoke of guttering candles and the metallic tang of the fighting that had just ended one floor above us.
Say that again, Ronan said, voice carefully controlled in a way that told me exactly how close he was to losing that control entirely.
My name is Rowan, the man in the chair said, wincing as he shifted against his restraints, exhaustion carved deep into features that were, now that I looked closely, subtly different from the face I remembered from that basement confrontation months ago, softer around the eyes, a faint scar along his jaw that Kestrel had not carried. Kestrel was my twin brother. Older by six minutes, though he never let me forget it.
Ronan crossed the room and cut
