Althea's shock hardened into a cold, sharp frown. The vulnerability vanished from her eyes, replaced by the stern, unyielding look of a ruler who'd heard one too many lies.
"I have never met my mother," she said, her voice flat and precise, cutting through the lingering tension in the square. "So I wouldn't know what she looks like. She abandoned me when I was an infant. Died on some backroad, or ran off—the stories change. So I have no love for her, no memory, and no interest in her. If that's your opening move, stranger, I suggest you leave. Now. While my mood is still… manageable."
Lucian's sad smile didn't fade. If anything, it warmed a little, touched by a flicker of familiar fondness. She has Lucy's face, he thought. And her fiery temper, too.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice still quiet, meant only for her. "For your tragic past. But I'm not lying. My name is Lucian Black. I am your mother's brother. My sister… her name was Lucy."
