"There's still time to join Anne and Mary in the kitchens…"
Albyn's whisper slid through the gaps in Jocelynn's emotional armor, falling on the brittle blade in her heart with the force of a hammer, and for a moment, she wavered.
She thought about Eleanor. She thought of the golden light that had filled her cousin's body in her final moments, and the warmth that still lingered beneath Jocelynn's skin as a fading reminder of the price Eleanor had paid to give her the strength to stand here now.
She thought about Ashlynn. Not the ghost in the looking glass, but the real Ashlynn. The one she'd betrayed. The one who might still be with her if she hadn't told Owain about the mark on her hip before she had a chance to…
