(Daciana POV)
Ashina stood at the laundry tunnel like a nightmare wearing a maid’s face, one hand on her stomach and the other holding Tala’s chain.
My world narrowed to that chain.
Not the crown.
Not Lobo.
Not Bardolph’s pain burning through the bond.
Not Conri shouting orders from somewhere behind a wall of feathers and steel.
Only Tala.
The woman who carried me as a baby through fire.
The woman who had loved my mother, hidden my name, and survived eighteen years of guilt to give me truth.
Ashina saw me see her, and her smile softened into something almost tender.
That frightened me more than hatred.
“My lady,” she called, bowing slightly while marked servants held Tala between them.
“You keep stealing my crowns, so I decided to take something you might love more.”
I lunged
