The air changed.
It was subtle at first.
A shift in temperature.
A vibration beneath the floorboards.
A faint tremor in the glass of the windows.
But Luca felt it.
Rosetta felt it.
Vescari felt it most of all.
"Do not move," the historian whispered urgently. "Do not breathe too deeply. The bloodline is making its first claim."
Aria sat upright despite her exhaustion, her hands still resting protectively over her belly. The golden glow beneath her skin had dimmed, but the warmth it radiated was unmistakable. It settled over the room like sunlight trapped in a storm.
Luca stood at her side, his hand on her shoulder, his body positioned instinctively between her and any threat.
Aria breathed slowly, eyes moving from Vescari to Luca to the flickering candles.
"I feel something," she whispered. "Something shifting inside me."
