“When it comes to dresses, I much prefer purple. It shows the world just how royal I am.” Trixy responded to Alistair with a playful smile that lit up her eyes, giving a nod to the noble heritage she was forced to leave behind. She linked her arm in his in propriety as they headed out the door. Suddenly Adrian piped up and spoke to them of foreboding news from his sire.

“There will be death, and a lot of it, as I cross off every name on my [i]list[/i]” Trixy said with a sly smile, masking her true emotions. Truth be told, she knew that divination was a powerful gift, one that often spoke volumes of the future. Morgan would only send a message that dark if she was confident in its accuracy. 

Béatrix felt a stab of fear, and the realization that she had made a mistake gripped her throat like an iron vice. She should have never settled down, she should have never made the choice to care for these people. A Blackmoore was going to die… but who?