Isolde's breath caught in her throat, her pale eyes fixed on the figure before her. The crown of thorns on Vladislav's brow pulsed with that deep, blood-red light, and for a moment, she was seventeen again, standing in the great hall of her father's castle, watching him hold court with that same cold expression.
She forced herself to breathe. Forced her voice to steady.
"It's been a long time... Father."
Vladislav's crimson eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. His hollow smile didn't waver, but something flickered behind that gaze, something that might have been recognition or perhaps just curiosity.
"Has it?" His voice was soft, almost gentle, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the centuries that had passed since they last stood face to face. "I confess, I lost track. Time flows differently when you're... dead."
Isolde flinched at the word, her pale fingers curling into fists at her sides.
