Saoirse
“You’re… the leader’s daughter?” Rhoan blinked, voice barely above a whisper as he took a step back. “You’re his heir?”
“Wait—what?!” Ezra looked at me like I’d just grown fangs and wings. “Saoirse, what the actual hell?!”
I barely heard them.
“My father’s alive…” I murmured, my fingers tightening around the worn leather cord of my necklace. The pendant—an old sigil of our bloodline—glowed faintly against my palm. “He’s alive. All this time… they lied to me.”
Rhoan let out a low breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “And we’ve been treating you like some feral rogue stray.”
“Some?” I raised an eyebrow, finally tearing my eyes away from the necklace. “Ezra threw me into a mud pit, Rhoan. Let’s not sugarcoat things.”
Ezra winced. “Okay, yeah, in hindsight, maybe I was a littl
