The maiden snorted and made her way toward her small red Griffin. "You kept calling yourself Reneira D'Orient. Wrote all sorts of things down, then suddenly locked them in your chest. Don't you remember that?"
A chill skittered down the princess's spine. Reneira D'Orient. How could she have claimed such a name?
The D'Orient family was a royal line from the human realm, one that hadn't birthed a daughter since the death of Princess Seraphina. The princess had read the records herself. That bloodline was sealed in tragedy. The fact was undeniable in their case.
She cast a glance back toward the hill where the black Dracon still stood, silent and unmoving. He hadn't left. He wasn't lying. That much, at least, was clear.
"I'm sorry, my dear," she murmured. She pressed hard, trying to drag memories from the fog, but her mind remained blank. And she couldn't trust that big giant too.
