ELISA’S POV
I swallowed, the taste of iron and smoke sharp on my tongue. “You’re not going to leave too? Or maybe even ask me to leave, since this is your house?”
Her thin smile barely moved her face. “Not while the moon watches.”
The mark on my arm pulsed again, a soft throb that matched my heartbeat. I drew the blanket tighter. “You keep saying things like that—‘The moon watches,’ ‘The god chooses.’” My voice cracked. “But what does it mean? Everyone keeps looking at me like I’m supposed to know. I don’t.”
Wren turned toward me, the lines around her eyes deep in the firelight. “It means you are no longer just yourself, child. You are a thread in a story older than stone.”
“That’s not an answer.” My words came out sharper than I intended. “You said the Moon God marked me as his bride
