"Hmph, arrogance? Still, I suggest you discipline that absurd son of yours. Of course, if Rui Jones wishes to marry her, I'll gladly offer my blessings!" My father's voice was cold, his fingers tightening around the armrest of his throne. The flickering candlelight cast deep shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.
Leaving the study, I intercepted Winans before he could depart. He looked exhausted, his usually neat hair disheveled, his clothes wrinkled. "Winans," I called, stopping him in the dimly lit corridor. "Tell me everything you know about Sibyl."
He hesitated, glancing around as if afraid someone might overhear. "Your Highness," he whispered, "she is not what she seems."
I leaned closer. "Explain."
Winans swallowed hard. "She is elven remains—Heather found her on a battlefield years ago. Just... just a broken body among the dead. Without ceremony, Heather handed the child to the elven royals to raise. That's how Sibyl became connected to your mother."
