"…What?"
Rhaegar's pulse quickened, his blood rushing mercilessly to his head. He couldn't believe his luck—he had wanted to find a witch to help him shift, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.
Still, having only just met the witch, a nagging wariness stirred inside him.
"How can you tell it's time for me to shift?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.
Naveen narrowed her icy blue eyes for a moment before exhaling sharply, the sigh fluttering the black fabric covering her nose and mouth. "You will have to tell me how you've managed to spend the last eleven years of your life knowing absolutely nothing about yourself, my dear boy. Although…"
She leaned closer suddenly, making Rhaegar recoil instinctively. Her cold gaze bore into him, her pupils narrowing before snapping wide in realization. "It makes sense now… You're Fenrir's son!"
