DARRAGH’S POV

The suit felt wrong against my skin. Too formal, too respectful for what we were doing today. I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom, fumbling with the black silk tie that refused to cooperate. My fingers kept slipping on the fabric, and the knot kept coming out crooked.

Only one day had passed since Riona's attack. One day since I'd pulled a silver knife out of my chest and watched my father's murderer disappear into thin air. The wound was mostly healed now, just a ...