Rosalind's expression contorted into a frown, her brows furrowing deeply, as soon as the man's name reached her ears. It took only moments for her to witness two figures emerge from the shadows at the back of the stage.
It was indeed Brinley, accompanied by a younger woman who bore a striking resemblance to him—so much so that she could be mistaken for his daughter. While Brinley himself was not old, appearing to be in his late twenties, the woman before her seemed like a mere teenager.
Her long, perfectly curled black hair cascaded around her, framing a pair of innocent yet intensely fiery eyes. Though a smile graced her lips, the fierce determination emanating from her gaze was unmistakable.
