"All the time," I breathed.

"Because you are halves of the same soul," Darrius revealed. "When an emotion peaks in one, the other echoes it. If Valen were to burn his hand, a phantom heat would bloom on yours. Yesterday, when Valen experienced the violent surge of his Alpha puberty growth pains, his primal rage spiked. You didn't lose control of your own anger, Evadne—you were drowning in his."

I sank back into the leather chair, my mind spinning into a vortex of shock. We were feeling each other's agony, joy, fury, and sickness across miles, completely blind to the tether binding us.

A sharp knock broke the spell. Derrick walked in, holding a thick leather dossier.

"Here is your new network card, little cousin," Derrick said, tossing a tiny gold chip across the desk. I fumbled, barely catching it. "Father, the northern borders are shifting. We need to review this file."

Taking the hint, I politely excused myself and slipped out of the library, closing the heavy doors behind me. I quickly swapped the SIM card into my phone. The moment the network bars illuminated, the device exploded with notifications. Twenty frantic, caps-locked messages from Valen flooded the screen, but my fingers instinctively scrolled past them, stopping at the final text from Gideon.

For your information, sweetheart, I don’t fancy empty-headed bimbos. You have nothing to worry about.

A breathless laugh escaped my lips, and I quickly typed a reply.

Can’t control those protective territorial hormones, can you, future Alpha?

After hitting send, I quickly messaged my twin to put him out of his misery.

I’m alive. The jet didn’t plunge into the Atlantic. Our uncle isn't a psychotic warlord. I had to change to a clan SIM card to get past the estate's wards. Relax, Valen. You forget you’re only older by three minutes.

I leaned against the stone wall, waiting. When Derrick finally walked out of the library, he shot me a peculiar look. "Have you been standing out here this entire time?"

I nodded sheepishly. He shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "I see the stubbornness runs in the family bloodline."

After Derrick departed down the wing, I knocked on the library doors once more. I wasn't done. I wanted the truth.

"Enter," Darrius's voice called out. When I walked in, his features softened into a warm smile. "I have a feeling you are going to become a permanent fixture in this study, princess."

"I have questions, Uncle."

"About what?" He raised a silver-flecked eyebrow.

"Everything my father claimed was forbidden knowledge," I said, stepping closer to the desk, my voice growing fierce. "I want to know why we carry these permanent marks. Why we never visited Europe, or why you never came to the States. Why did my father abandon the old territories?"

"Woah, slow down, little wolf. One mystery at a time," Darrius chuckled, holding up a hand. Then, his eyes narrowed slightly. "What marks are you referring to?"

I extended both my hands, flipping my wrists upward. Etched into the delicate skin on the inside of my wrists were intricate, elegant silver sigils, scarred into the flesh with a traditional silver needle.

Darrius stared at my wrists, his expression shifting from curiosity to profound bewilderment. "Can you not read the Old Lycan High-Script?"

"The old language?" I asked, utterly lost. "No. Valen and I speak a private dialect sometimes, but we thought it was just a twin thing."

"I will personally ensure you are assigned a classical tutor tomorrow," Darrius muttered, his jaw tightening in a flash of cold anger. "Your father has truly left you defenseless in the dark. To answer your first question: that is your royal lineage. Your right wrist bears the sigils of your father's ancestors—proving you are a pure-blood of the Winter Throne. Your left wrist bears your mother's lineage. It features only a single crest because she is a partial wolf, but for an American line, your blood remains remarkably pure."

I tilted my head. "An American line? Are we different?"

"Europe is the cradle of our civilization, the birthplace of the pure-bloods," Darrius explained, his eyes darkening with a subtle prejudice. "The wolves who fled to the American colonies diluted our sacred bloodlines by mingling with humans and... other supernatural factions. You will likely cross paths with a few during your stay here."

I felt a surge of excitement, but before I could speak, Darrius reached across the desk, his massive hand gently but firmly gripping my forearm.

"Listen to me carefully, Evadne. Do not trust the foreign factions in America, and never trust them here," he warned solemnly, before releasing his grip and patting my hand. "Your father violated protocol by marking you before your first official shift. As for why I never visited... your father and I had a severe political falling out many winters ago. We never reconciled. He refused to answer my mind-links or my couriers. I was shocked when his frequency hit my line yesterday... and even more shocked that he trusted me enough to safeguard his most precious treasure."