Eve held his gaze.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Malachai nodded. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out. Set it on the table between them.
A photograph.
Old. Faded at the edges. The kind of photograph that had been carried in a pocket for decades.
Eve leaned forward.
The photograph showed two people standing outside the Conclave building. The man was tall with dark hair and sharp features and a smile that took over his entire face. The woman beside him was shorter with long dark hair and those eyes....Eve's eyes....and she was mid-laugh, her head tilted back, her hand on the man's arm.
They looked happy.
They looked young.
They looked like people who had no idea what was coming.
