Veil of Secrets
Then my mother folded her pink, starched napkin into her mouth before leaning back in her chair, smiling politely.
“You always did have a weakness for strays,” she said easily. Too easily. “Broken winged creatures. Tinkers. This one happens to…snap.”
My lips quirked upwards as I pushed my goblet aside. “He isn’t a stray.”
Draven tensed across the table from me. Literally tensed. Muscle simmering under fine linen. His posture remained still, unreadable, but I could feel victory in the solidity of his bones. Quiet like he earned something.
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