Hadrian Sylvarien looked at Aelion.
His expression did not change immediately, but something in his face shifted all the same. Shock first. Then disbelief. Then the careful stillness of a man who had just been handed a possibility too important to react to carelessly.
Aelion spoke quickly after that, murmuring everything he had gathered. He told his uncle about Aveline's strange instincts, about Lucien's unusual treatment of her, about the things she had said and done that had begun to fit too well with old stories no one was supposed to take seriously anymore.
Hadrian listened without interruption.
But at some point, his gaze drifted past Aelion, past the curtain, toward the place where Aveline's laughter had been echoing only moments earlier.
There was something strange about the room now.
It had already been dark and cramped, but with Aveline in it, the place had seemed less suffocating.
