My father sat at the head of the table, his broad shoulders rigid, his weathered face unreadable. His gaze followed me, and I could feel his anger simmering beneath his skin. Waiting. One of the council members, Aelira, was the first to speak. “Dacre.” Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but there was no kindness behind it. “You stand before us today accused of treason.” Treason. The word should have shaken me, but I felt nothing. “What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked. I lifted my chin, meeting her gaze head-on. “Where is my sister?” I asked simply, ignoring her question. “Wren is
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