Chapter 197

• Emilia’s POV. I curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over my legs as I wondered about all the things we’ve come across about my mother. All the puzzles that only made my head go crazy instead of giving answers to all the questions I had. The air was quiet and still, save for the occasional crackle of the fire from the fireplace.
• Alaric sat across from me, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring into the flames. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers tightened slightly around the glass. He’d been quiet all evening, and that silence had stretched between us like a taut string, ready to snap.
• I didn’t press him. Not yet. Alaric was like a storm—you had to feel out the winds before stepping into the tempest. Instead, I let the quiet settle, taking slow sips of tea and letting the warmth seep into my hands.