BRAMMON'S POV
I saw it the moment the first drop touched her lips.
That flicker in Anwen’s eyes—recognition, or the beginning of it. That it had been me she clung to last night, not her so-called brother. That it had been me she begged not to leave.
And still… her doubt lingered.
She’d been delirious, half-conscious, burning with fever. There was no telling what she truly remembered.
Anwen lowered the vial, her tongue darting out to catch the last of the sweetness. She lingered on it, lips parting slightly as if unwilling to let the taste go, her brows drawing together in faint confusion.
Then she looked up at me. And for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
No wonder Fenric wouldn’t shut up about her. Scions like us—half human, half divine—were long since immune to mortal beauty. It
