His black wings flex. “He was the Icaral killed by your grandmother, Elloren.” I wince and grab onto a nearby tree to steady myself. It all makes sense now. The horror in his mother’s face when she saw me. It wasn’t only because she’s yet another Kelt who hates the Gardnerians, who hated my grandmother. It’s because I look exactly like the woman who killed her husband—the Icaral shown in the statue in front of the Valgard Cathedral. Yvan’s father.
