Ayla POV
The symbols carved into the floor looked ancient.
Worn smooth by time.
A rose. A knight. A compass. A stag.
Lily stepped toward the knight without hesitation. Dally headed straight for the rose. Of course he did.
That left the compass. And the stag.
Gunnar moved first. "Well, this one's mine." He said it casually. Confidently. Like there was never any question.
I opened my mouth. Then closed it. Because I knew he was wrong. The certainty hit me so suddenly it stole my breath.
The portrait hidden at the back of the gallery. The little girl with my eyes. My skin. My smile. The green ribbon tied to my key.
The stag wasn't Gunnar. The stag was blood. The stag was family. The stag was legacy. It was me.
I could say it.
All I had to do was open my mouth.
Actually, I'm Keenan
