While Ollie and Liam worked to strip the intricate layers of armor from Owain's body, Jocelynn helped to steady Ashlynn as she climbed the steps onto the dais. Yet, as determined as she was to help her sister, she hesitated at the idea of approaching the throne that even now carried a dark and menacing aura.
"It won't hurt you, Jocey," Ashlynn promised. "I'll keep you safe from it, I promise. But I need to see it, and to feel it, if I'm going to free people from it."
"Ash," Jocelynn said softly. "Are you really… really a saintess?" Had her family been wrong the entire time about her sister? Had they mistaken a sign of greatness for a sign of something wicked and shut her away from the world because they didn't really know?
The questions piled up in Jocelynn's mind one after the next, but an even greater one burned in her heart. If she hadn't said anything to Owain, and Ashlynn's mark identified her as a Saintess instead of as a Witch, how many things would have been different?
