Brielle
Aldric came through the window.
"Habit," he said before I could even ask.
He dropped down into the room casually, barely made a sound, and perched on the edge of my desk like he sat there every day.
His eyes went to my hands first, which were still scraped from training, and then to the faint scorch marks on the floor where I'd been trying to shift. He didn't say anything right away. He just looked, and then his expression changed, turning a little soft, which on Aldric was strange enough that it stopped me for a second.
"Sit down," he said.
I sat on the edge of my bed. "How much do you know about the Blackthorne family?"
He didn't answer that immediately. Instead he asked, "How much do you know?"
"I found the name in my mother's journal," I said. "That's it. Just the name
