Chapter 17

It was the fourth night of Buel, third and last month of spring. Iezabel sat in a corner, reading a book she had borrowed from Zelrine. Anheira, it was called, a collection of myths about the nameless one, based on a religion widely followed by most humans in Isouvien, Equilon, and Neisa.

A candle flickered on the table beside her, throwing a dim glow across the bedchamber. With dawn fast approaching, it was an hour past midnight. Lady Ayana breathed peacefully in her sleep, her hand unconsciously reaching for the crib beside her bed.

A low thud reached Iezabel’s ears, followed by a slight creak from the wooden cradle.

Iezabel sighed and placed the book on the table before rising to her feet. Scarlett lay on her stomach, her tiny hands patting the soft padding under her blankets. Iezabel lifted the child from her little prison just as her lips parted in a wail.