When Marudas's tale was done, Kael did something no one expected. He rose, still holding Nerine's trembling hand, and led her toward the grand hall where the portraits of ancestors lined the walls.
Her steps faltered as her eyes found it—her. Lady Damsel.
The same portrait Nerine had once stumbled upon in a quiet corridor, the same pale hair, the same regal bearing. Her heart twisted, and for a moment she could not breathe.
Kael stopped before the painting, releasing her hand only so she might step closer. His voice, usually so sharp, carried a rare gentleness. "Touch it."
Her hand rose, trembling, until her fingertips brushed the canvas. The texture was rough, yet the eyes staring back seemed almost alive. A shiver ran down her spine.
For a moment she was that little girl again, searching for her mother in dreams, haunted by a face she could not name. Now, here it was.
She met her grandmother.
