The old woman's hand remained twisted in Eiravyne's hair.
"Your mother had a son," she said softly this time. "A mixed‑blood…..But a son nonetheless," she continued, almost indulgent. "And sons… sons are what kingdoms are built upon."
She tightened her grip just enough to sting.
"And now that he is finally here," she went on, "returned to his castle, claimed by blood and name… your usefulness has expired."
Eiravyne's chest constricted violently. Her pulse thundered.
"There was a time," the woman said, eyes glittering, "when you were convenient…to the Duke."
She leaned closer, breath warm against Eiravyne's cheek.
"That time is over."
Eiravyne struggled weakly.
"The Duke will thank me," the woman said calmly."
Her lips curved into a thin, poisonous smile.
"Your place ended the moment the heir arrived," she said.
Eiravyne was crying.
