The midnight air in the upper gallery of the tower hung thick and motionless, chilled by the distant draft of the sea sweeping off the rugged eastern cliffs.
Aurelia stood frozen upon the dark flagstones, her boots still faintly damp from the subterranean water of the lower cells, her chest heaving as she processed the impossible words falling from the lips of an eight-year-old boy.
Young Prince Vaelric looked up at her, his pale gray eyes searching her face with an intensity, an ancient composure that defied his tender years.
It was a look that made Aurelia's breath hitch in her throat, a reminder that the child standing before her had crossed into some hidden, forbidden realm when the ancient blood-wards of the Stormborne vault had accepted his touch three days ago.
