Odin's eyes didn't flicker, but for a heartbeat something unreadable crossed his face. Then the easy warmth returned, his pale gaze steady on hers.
"She's close," he said again, voice low and smooth. "Safe. With me. But the world thinks she's gone, and for now that's how it has to stay. Bringing her here after the trial, after the accusations, would make everything you want harder to reach."
Ophelia's heart kicked against her ribs. She had heard her mother's voice once, a brief, tinny call Odin had arranged. Just enough to prove Misty was alive. But the sound of it had stayed with her: hollow, flattened, the same tone Lucas had used before Serathine dragged him out of that house and into a new life. Not the bright, scheming voice she'd grown up with, but something dulled at the edges.
"She didn't sound like herself," Ophelia said quietly. "She sounded… empty."
