Eiravyne stared at him, confusion etched across her face. It was the first time Ilkar had ever spoken of his family in such detail, and the revelation that their families were connected in the past stirred a deep curiosity within her.
She wanted to know more, to understand the tangled web of their shared history.
Ilkar's presence was overwhelming, his tall frame looming over her as his golden gaze bore into her.
His eyes held a hypnotic quality, drawing her in even as his words sent chills down her spine.
"Your whore of a mother," he began, his tone dripping with contempt, "made it quite clear that everyone was too stupid to fall for her manipulation trap."
The harshness of his words made Eiravyne recoil. He had done it again—speaking to her with a cruelty that cut deep, dragging up past sins she had never known or heard of.
She tried to back away, the instinct to escape his oppressive presence kicking in, but Ilkar was quicker.
