"Silver eyes," I murmured, staring at the miniature portrait in the locket. The girl's gaze seemed to follow me, haunting and ethereal. She couldn't have been more than sixteen when this was painted, with delicate features that bore an unsettling resemblance to Honoria.
"The original Clara," Alaric said, his voice tight with urgency as he paced the library. "She's the one they've been searching for all along."
Daylight streamed through the tall windows of Thorne Estate as we gathered our findings - letters, maps, and the silver locket that now represented our most vital clue. The revelation that Clara Beaumont was never the true target had shaken me more than I cared to admit. This unknown girl - this hidden daughter - was now at the center of everything.
"My sister was just a distraction," I said, the irony not lost on me. "A namesake planted to draw attention away from the real Clara."
