When the drinks were splashing across the tables and the bards sang in a perfect cacophony, Joselia heard the whispers of her mother–a faerie most reserved and the very same as her patron. A pure dark fae whispering into her ears, thoughts most profane–a stark contrast to her aged advice that she was known for offering.
"Something the matter?" Raven asked, his gaze shifting from Diane, who had just tossed a glass with him.
"N-nothing," holding her head, she forced a smile on her face and brought her glass of wine closer to her lips. "J-just a voice in my head–"
"The faerie?"
"How did you?" Joselia blinked with a look of shock most apparent.
Raven simply turned his finger to Will-O–mingling with the crowd and keeping an eye on the expectant mothers while sharing her senses with Raven through the mana-fused eye of his.
