Aveline looked at the older man standing before her.
His black hair fell just past his shoulders, neat but unadorned, and his skin was so pale it almost looked untouched by daylight. Yet it was his eyes that caught her first—blue, deep, and unmoving, like the still surface of a sea she had once seen in a painting and never forgotten.
He did not look imposing in the way soldiers did, or loud in the way most nobles were. He was composed. Still. Measured.
And that made him far more dangerous, and she could feel it.
Edric's gaze moved past Kael and settled on her. His gaze was not just a passing glance; it was a study. His gaze was slow, thorough, and uninterrupted.
Aveline felt it like a hand pressing against her skin, peeling back layers she hadn't known she had.
"This is…?" he asked. His tone was mild. Too mild.
"I'm—"
"Ava," Kael cut in, a fraction too quickly.
