Alpha Atlas
Even confident in my abilities, there was something about Aralia that just struck me as—wrong.
“Enough.” The High Lady snapped, entering through a different set of doors. A scowl was etched into her young face, but she still looked only in her mid-twenties. Her pale hair was braided and curled into a bun at the base of her neck. Even woken from sleep, she was the picture of royalty. A glittering sleep gown that hung low from her wrists, and a train that trailed across the smooth floors.
“Finn’s brood would be delighted to see her using their families’ abilities.” The High Lady mused, strolling past me with a hard glance. “Enough fighting, you are not children anymore.”
Bab Populer