'Father?'
Edna and Medusa thought the word at the same time.
Their faces did not shift, but their hearts did. The word hung in the air heavier than snow.
Edna's lashes lowered briefly.
'So, he truly was from the Winter region.'
She had suspected something, after all he had silver hair, it was very rare for someone in the Empire.
Yet the revelation did not change the coil in her chest.
'He still belongs to me.'
Medusa's violet eyes, sharp as cut amethyst, flickered to Azel's face.
She was wondering whether she would have to collect his family's blessings in case she wanted to become their daughter in law.
Azariah, the Patriarch, turned away from his son as if regaining composure.
He looked at his guard.
"Before we go to the palace," he said, his voice calm but firm, "I have somewhere to take you."
His eyes slid back to Azel. "It is called the Winter Grave."
The guard's eyes widened, alarm flashing in them.
