A dangerous smile played across Maena's lips, her silver-black hair catching the dying light. "That was dangerous; if I had been a little late, my nephew would have died." Her words carried a subtle warning, wrapped in velvet courtesy.
"Nephew?" The word fell from Raayani's lips like a stone into still water.
Maena's smile widened marginally as she gestured to Jolthar. "Meet my nephew, Jolthar Kaezhlar."
The name hit the silent area like a thunderbolt.
In the shadows, Roblan, who had been watching them, was horrified.
Belan, still weak from her injuries but now propped up against a pillar, felt her breath catch.
Kaezhlar.
The name carried weight that even deities respected.
The Kaezhlar family didn't rule kingdoms or command armies. They did something far more dangerous—they collected secrets and debts from beings both mortal and divine.
