Zinnia knew the pendant before the chain finished rising.
It was no larger than the centre of her palm, carved from pale bone and shaped into the three mountain peaks of House Vale beneath an upward crescent moon. A hairline crack divided the lowest peak, exactly where she had dropped it as a child while trying to climb the eastern wall of her family’s estate. Her mother had refused to replace it, saying broken things deserved to be remembered for surviving.
The pendant hung from the final link of the silver chain, turning slowly above the pit while black blood dripped from its edges.
For several heartbeats, Zinnia could not breathe.
Her mother had worn it every day.
Even inside the moon chamber.
Even while dying.
Ronan reached toward the chain, but Zinnia caught his wrist before he
