"Duke Feuerlon entrusted his daughter with a task. To deliver something in secrecy." Says Orwell. "It is suspicious. How come you didn't know this, Lucas?"
Faustina eyed Orwell, almost frowning. What is he trying to say?
"Is it that important, that even you, cannot tell your Brother?"
Faustina sighed. "This is what happened…"
Flashback . . .
"A necklace?"
"Yes." The duke answered, and then he turned to the window once more, peering from outside. The bright afternoon light made his silhouette darker, as Faustina's gaze fixated on his tall stature. On Faustina's hand was the necklace, from the pendant's back was a carved snowflake, few dents evident from it.
"To someone named Owen?"
"Owen Lopez." Duke Feuerlon says, his emerald eyes compelling and deeply lost in thought. "Bring it to him. And if he does not want it, you must force it to him, if necessary."
"Can I tell Lucas?" Faustina asks.
