I stared hard at the silhouette wreathed in pale smoke—strange and yet somehow achingly familiar—and forced the words out:
"Who are you, really?"
——
Ever since my uncle's wasting curse was diagnosed, the healers had forbidden him from smoking. Every stash in the den had been confiscated.
This hiding spot was known only to my uncle and me.
How could this stranger possibly know of it?
The male across from me wore no expression at all. He merely pointed at the name inscribed on the will.
"Can you not read? I am Alaric Ravenhart, the lawful heir to Fenris Ashenvale's estate. Now—will you leave?"
"Impossible!"
My voice cracked, nearly breaking. "This will must be forged! I demand the Law-Speaker verify its authenticity!"
Dorian Ravenhart examined the documents once more, his expression grave as he nodded. "This blood-oath will is genuine and binding. Alaric Ravenhart is indeed the lawful heir."
The expression on my face froze. I shook my head in disbelief.
"How can this be real? I am the one closest to my uncle. How could he possibly leave everything to you—an outsider?"