If Angels could cry, it was the time to sob.
Ren's eyes shimmered with tears. Her poor aunt. All this time, she had borne the burden alone, burying her emotions to protect House D'Orient from scandal. And worse, she had endured the torment of being separated from her lover.
She barely had time to process the revelation before her gaze dropped to the woman's hand, and Gods, the wound was fresh, blood still welling along the cloth, she could tell there was a jagged tear in her flesh.
Her brows knitted as she strained to catch their words, a chill creeping down her spine. She hated eavesdropping, but this time, it was pure chance. Not deliberately to have fun at all.
And when the women headed out, shadows moved.
A sharp crack of twigs underfoot shattered the moment. Their heads snapped toward the sound just as three assassins emerged from the shadows, fanning out to surround the cottage.
Steel in their hands glinted in the moonlight.
