The news of Valerius’s personal request shattered the last vestiges of the gala’s joy. The dancing couples and the soaring music seemed jarringly out of place against the stark reality of the new threat.
“He asked to speak with me?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper against the music. The request felt like a violation. A chilling echo of the familial connection Morwyn had recently revealed.
“Through a coded message relayed by the Shadowkeep’s warden,” Morwyn confirmed. She placed her hand protectively on my arm. “He was quiet and compliant after the initial containment. After the Rift sealed though, the message arrived. He knows your lineage now, Anya. He knows you are Rosariel’s descendant.”
Torian’s hand moved to my shoulder, his grip firm. “He didn’t truly look at you before,”
