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Chapter 18
“Let’s begin. Take her hand, son of Wulric,” Aworyn commanded, breaking Emory out of her reverie.
Aworyn’s long, wavy silver locks floated behind her and Dante complied, bowing before taking her hand. His touch was electric, like a thousand tiny sparks. Emory looked up into his eyes and time seemed to stand still.
They stood face-to-face as the world around them faded. It was almost as if the goddess’ magical presence had enchanted them, intensifying their bond. Then something Aworyn said echoed in her head.
Son of Wulric?
Emory squinted at Dante. She couldn’t believe it--he was related to Lycan King Wulric, and as if to confirm it, the wind seemed to carry his name on its wings. It didn’t make any sense; the Moores were not of noble blood. There was no way in hell Dante was related to Lord Rydell Wulric, the second son of the first king of Morrian.
“Son of Wulric?” she asked him.
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