As night fell over the Ambrose estate, Grim found himself back in the study, staring up at the portrait of his great-grandfather.
Huangyan sat across from him, her hands now clean of blood but her expression still carrying that unnerving detachment. Chen Xing had excused himself to patrol the grounds, ensuring no more unwelcome visitors would surprise them.
"You claim to have known my great-grandfather," Grim said finally, breaking the silence. "Yet you've offered no proof beyond knowledge that could have been acquired elsewhere."
"What proof would satisfy you?" Huangyan asked, her amber eyes reflecting the firelight. "Would you have me recite the seven forms of the Silver Crescent style?"
"That's a start," he conceded. "But it doesn't explain how a half-elf became the student of a man known for his ruthlessness toward your kind."
A shadow passed over Huangyan's face. "Not all stories begin as tales of honor, Lord Ambrose. Mine began in chains."
