“So, Elira. Tell me—how is your mother these days?”
As if that was an entirely normal question.
I glared at him. “And what would you know about my mother?”
Ivan chuckled, but his gaze darkened. “Syrena and I have a history. She was born in Iron Reach, you know.”
“Bullshit.”
“And you know that how?” he asked, all polite interest.
I didn’t answer.
“We were raised together,” he went on. “I was always quite fond of her.”
“And now you hold her daughter captive. Maybe that’s why you’re not friends anymore,” I snapped.
“I knew your father too,” he said. “He and I - Well, we never really got along. He was always off adventuring, you know. It used to upset your mother terribly.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Trying to make friends?”
“No.” He smiled thinly. “I just find it fascinating, looking at you now. Makes me wonder—”
“Wonder what?”
“Who you take after. Your mother… or your father.”
“What does it matter?”
“Call it curiosity,” Ivan said, voice smooth as oil.
Then, almost offhand, “That necklace you’re wearing—it reminds me of another. One your father found on one of his trips.”
I stiffened. My fingers curled protectively around the pendant.
I tried to keep my face still. But he saw.
Of course he did.
“And?” I asked.
“And nothing,” Ivan said lightly. “Just making friendly conversation, that’s all.”
I shifted. “It’s just a necklace.”
“Perhaps.”
Vael rolled his eyes then, sighing loud and deliberate—like he was sick of being left out of the conversation.
I sat back in my chair and said nothing. I even sipped my wine.
But I imagined driving the stem of that wine glass through his eye. The thought was so beautiful, I almost cried.
It was midway through the meal that the first message came.
“Sire, it would seem King Ashton of Varrowmere is approaching the city with a large force.”
The servant stuttered, refusing to meet Vael’s eyes.
