"Aurielle, kneel."
My knees hit the floor.
I hesitated for a heartbeat, my gaze fixed on the head of the table. Valentin sat there, looking regal and untouched by the chaos he had just interrupted in the cellar. In his arms, he held my daughter—my tiny, nameless girl.
A few minutes ago, he had found us. Magda and I, locked in a death grip, tearing at each other's hair like animals. I expected him to snap, to roar, to punish us both. Instead, he had simply rolled his eyes, a look of profound boredom crossing his face.
"If you truly wish to slaughter one another, please do not do it in my hallway," he had said, "It's beneath the dignity of this house. Get cleaned up before I lose my patience entirely."
Now, here we were. The "Special Guest" was still a shadow in my mind, but the immediate horror was the table before me.
Valentin looked down at the baby, then slowly, deliberately, he passed her to Magda.
