The elder lifted her gaze to the silver woman. “This sanctuary keeps memory, not flesh. It shows blood what blood once was.”
Camron stayed at Azaliyah’s side despite the strain in every line of him. “Whose memory?”
Misha looked at Azaliyah, and for once there was no riddle in her face. Only truth delayed too long.
“Your mother’s.”
Silence struck harder than battle ever had.
Azaliyah laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “My mother was a soldier.”
“Yes,” Misha said quietly. “She was.”
The silver figure lifted its head as if hearing them.
“And she was the Gatekeeper.”
The words hit somewhere deeper than shock.
Azaliyah took one slow step back, then another, as if distance could make the sentence smaller. “No.”
Misha did not move. “Yes.”
“She trained with blades.”
“Because she gu
