Malrik POV
“That night…” Ysolde’s voice was a whisper, raw and unsteady, as though every word clawed its way out of her chest. “The families came to look at the baby, to see with their own eyes if she was truly gone.”
Her words carried the tremor of old wounds, deliberate and heavy.
“She was blue in her cot, lifeless. They accepted what they saw. They believed she was dead and so they left.”
Her hands shook as she twisted them together in her lap. “I was the one tasked with her burial,” she said, her tone thick with grief. “Stellan Mancini couldn’t bear it. He loved her, would have defended his granddaughter if there had been even a sliver of hope… but to him, she was gone.”
Her voice faltered, a breath shuddering out of her. “Drethos refused to touch her. He was shattered. So Stellan
