The War of Two Queens (Blood And Ash, #4)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

to show whether she was breathing, I was also afraid of that. “I don’t know your name.” “I know who you are, with that glow in your eyes as bright as a star,” she replied, and I did everything in my power to keep my face blank. “Vessa is what I was once called.” Once called? I resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, to see if she truly was made of flesh and bone. Instead, I opened my senses to her, and what I felt was…strange. It was murky. As if whatever she felt was clouded somehow. But there were faint traces of sugary amusement, which was also odd. I wondered if her age made reading her hazy. I had a feeling she was likely the oldest mortal I’d ever met—possibly even that existed. But her age meant that she must have seen a lot of what’d occurred in Massene. A lot of what the Ascended had done. “What did you do here, Vessa?” The lace in front of her face rippled gently, and I caught the scent of something vaguely familiar. A stale scent I couldn’t quite place as she said, “I served,” she said. “I serve still.”