The photograph was older than it looked.
While the edges had faded badly with time and the paper carried significant water damage near one corner, the faces remained clear enough for someone to recognize but one of those faces should not have been there.
I stared at Vivianne silently from across the image and a deep cold settled in my chest.
She looked young, beautiful, and vibrant, standing beside three Kingshade officials during what appeared to be a formal gathering near the border territories.
It was impossible, or perhaps just inconvenient.
I leaned back into the worn archive chair, allowing the scent of dust and decaying paper to settle all over me.
It all felt heavy as thunder rolled faintly outside the estate walls. If this photograph was authentic that means Vivienne had
