[Meredith].
Mrs. Oatrun answered without hesitation. "My name is Rosalie Edward."
My breath caught in my throat.
"I am a vampire," she continued calmly, as though stating the weather. "But I am not a pure old blood."
For a heartbeat, the room felt too small. 'A vampire.' I forced myself not to react, not to betray the storm that erupted in my chest.
This was the first time I had ever heard her real name spoken aloud. The first time she had acknowledged her identity so plainly—without anger, without accusation, without madness clouding her words.
And the way she said it so simply sent a chill down my spine.
'Not a pure old blood. Was she mixed, then?'
My mind raced ahead of my restraint, connecting threads I had been afraid to touch before.
If Rosalie Edward was a vampire… If she was not pure-blooded… Then what else was she?
And what, exactly, did that make Draven?
I kept my voice steady, though my pulse thundered in my ears. "What do you mean… not a pure old blood?"
