After a few minutes of polite conversation, I set down my fork and lean forward. “Grace,” I start carefully, “you said you were ready to answer some questions. I want to learn more about your upbringing—and about the Lycan bloodlines.”
Her expression softens, but there’s a flicker of old pain behind her eyes. “Of course,” she says quietly. “It’s not an easy story, but it’s one that needs telling.”
She folds her hands together, gaze distant. “You know, Keith, when I was a child, people didn’t talk about the Lycan blood like they do now. It was… something we whispered about. Those of us with it were different—enough to be noticed, but not enough to belong. The wolves saw us as… impure. The pure Lycans, the old royal lines, saw us as beneath them.”
Jace frowns. “Because of mixed blood?”
“
