Quinlan stared at the small vessel.
The drops inside it shimmered with a warmth that had no place in this cold mausoleum, a soft golden light pulsing against the glass as though breathing. His mother's tears. Sealed in a vial that had outlived continents.
His mind turned backward.
'A dungeon,' he thought. 'A monster guarding it.'
That was the picture Lilyanna had painted for Luminara. Her daughter slain in some terrible place by a beast that now hoarded the elixir in its lair. A creature waiting to be put to the sword by someone worthy of the artifact's recovery.
None of it had been a clean lie, but...
The "dungeon" was a love-built tomb. The "monster" was a widower who had cherished Mirethiel past her final breath. The "killing" had been Mirethiel refusing to leave him, choosing the cold marble of this sanctuary over any warm forest her friends and family could have welcomed her into.
Lilyanna had taken a love story and dressed it up as a problem.
