The room went silent.
I stared at the photograph in Rhys’s hand, waiting for it to change. For the woman to stop looking like my mother. For the words on the back to become something else.
They didn’t.
Our daughter belongs to Redthorne.
My stomach turned.
“No,” I whispered.
Kael took the plastic bag from Rhys. His face was unreadable, but the air around him changed. It became heavier. Sharper.
“Where did you find this?” he asked.
“In the lower tunnel,” Rhys said. “Hidden behind loose stone. Whoever left it wanted it found.”
Kael looked at the photo again.
I hated that he was looking at it, I hated that everyone knew something about my life before I did.
“Give it to me,” I said.
Kael hesitated. My hand flashed silver. His jaw tightened, but he handed it over.
The photo was old,
