~Nyla's POV~
I stare at the picture, leaning closer.
That’s my father. That’s Darius. Rowan.
My fingertips follow the lines of their faces.
Why are they—
Why are they together?
I flip the photograph over. One word is written boldly across the back.
The Council.
I frown. Maybe they are members of an organization. My father attended a lot of functions when he was alive, he almost never stayed at home.
Dropping the picture onto my lap, I reach for the envelope again. My fingers brush against a folded piece of paper.
I pause, holding the paper between my fingers for a moment before pulling it out.
Carefully, I unfold it. The paper is thick and crisp. Rowan’s handwriting stretches neatly across the page. I blink, take a breath, and begin reading.
Nyla,
The name at the top makes
