Sage's voice was steady, though her fingers clutched the edges of the book as though it might leap from her grip. "I do. I know nothing about her bloodline but i think there is one who fits this description."
Vale's throat tightened. He did not want to say her name, he did not want to think that it was her but it burned between them nonetheless.
"Arin."
Sage lowered her gaze. "Yes."
A thousand thoughts warred in Vale's mind. He remembered Arin's exile, her shame, the way the world had scorned her for being wolfless. And yet her resilience, her survival, her strange affinity with forces no wolf understood. Born of wolf and witchblood. The forgotten daughter of two worlds. It made sense.
Vale swore under his breath. "We must be certain."
Sage nodded. "The passage is clear. The mark will appear… here." She pressed her fingers lightly just beneath the curve of her collarbone, over the left side of her chest. "A crescent moon etched into the flesh. We need only look."
