¬ Fashire
"Strome," I continued. "The servant who made it. She bears a resemblance to Paloma. Slight, but present."
"If that is the case. They may very well be connected," Effer mumbled. "Perhaps even from the same origin."
"I believe it is a possibility worth investigating," I added.
I did not mention the girl.
I did not mention that Strome had been feeding those potions to her for years. I did not mention the chain, or the craving, or the way her blood had tasted like salvation.
They did not need it. My aunt knowing about her would just soil my plans.
She was a splinter lodged beneath my skin. I needed to remove it.
Hildegard's eyes flickered toward me. Just for a moment. Just enough to let me know he had noticed the gap in my story. The careful editing of the truth.
I ignored him.
"I intended to notify Dana about this." I straightened.
"Don't—" Maybelle clipped, her expression hardened.
