“How old is she?” Sorin asked quietly. “What?” “Scarlett. How old is she?” “She’s nineteen. Why?” Sorin closed his eyes. Eliné had left nearly twenty years ago, in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. A lost Fae child in the mortal lands who possessed both fire and water magic. Coincidences weren’t a thing when magic was involved. “What was her mother’s name?” “Eliné,” Cassius answered. “Eliné Monrhoe.” Scarlett had refused to tell him, not that he’d pushed very hard, thinking it didn’t matter. Eliné’s husband had been killed in the war. She had no one to conceive a child with.
