Ajab squinted, his brows knitting together in confusion—he wasn't sure he was following.
"Chasing death?" He turned to his mother, his gaze caught between seeking clarity and wondering what kind of death she could ever have been chasing.
Eihpos burst into laughter, delighted by the confusion written all over Ajab's face. She drifted toward her sister—the Queen—pressing herself against her before turning back to him.
"Your mother might not look it," she said lightly, "but she once participated in the Blood Howl. Hehe…"
Her smile pulled at the edges of her eccentric scar.
The Queen squinted and shoved her sister aside.
"What do you mean, don't look it?"
She stood, hands on her waist, daring the room to take her seriously.
But the act failed miserably. Her arms were slender and slick, catching the warm glow of the chamber lights, her skin unmarred—no wrinkles, no swell. Her hands looked carved from calm itself, like the surface of a rare, unmoving sea.
