Giovanni
I had always believed myself to be prepared for anything. Assassinations, betrayals, court treachery. But nothing could have prepared me for the truth my mother revealed.
Zoraya was my sister.
My long-lost sister. The infant ripped from our lives before she had a name, a presence, or a chance to feel the love of her family.
I stood there frozen when Mother told us, my breath trapped in my throat as her words echoed again and again.
“She is your sister.”
It was almost impossible to believe. The fragile girl that was brought into our palace, the one who flinched at the sound of a voice too loud, who couldn’t speak, who had fainted upon seeing Elena—that was our blood.
The girl my mother had mourned in silence for years. The reason our father, Dorian, left the palace to searc
