When I ordered someone to discard the Dark Envoy's backpack, a wallet fell out—containing cash, bank cards, keycards... and a photo of a girl.
The moment the photo slipped free, time seemed to slow. The edges were slightly worn, as if it had been carried for years, folded and unfolded countless times. My fingers trembled as I picked it up, the glossy surface cool against my skin.
Her pure, radiant smile was like a ray of sunlight piercing through the hollow, dark corners of my heart. It was as if I saw Alma standing in the palace garden over eight hundred years ago. That face, as if across lifetimes, filled me with such ecstatic joy that I nearly rushed out to find her immediately.
"Who is this?" I demanded, my voice sharper than intended. The servant flinched, shaking his head. "I—I don't know, Your Highness."
But outside, the scorching sun blazed, making it impossible for me to take a single step. In that moment, I hated being a vampire.
