No, Wrenley. That’s right. I suppose I should know it now that she’s Dayton’s mate. I start to look away from her, but something in her gaze makes me pause. Her short brown hair falls over her blue eyes, but her stare remains transfixed on Rosalina and her father. There’s a sense of bewilderment to her, as if laying eyes on a gryphon or a winged horse or some other make-believe story from a children’s tale. With hesitant steps, she creeps out from the doorway and enters the hall, staying behind all the staff waiting to greet George. Her movements are stiff, as if she’s in pain as she takes
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Is she the Nightengale? Making her Rose's biological sister? So George her dad?
