Blackfeather Woods you are young and life is long

She relaxed, slightly, as Relmyna took her explanation to heart. But there was something between them, something strange. It did not help that--

Cicero passed down to them.

An icy ball of dread formed in her stomach as a hypothesis came to her mind, the puzzle pieces coming together. Astara's eyes and plush dark fur, so like Ramsay. Averna's ghostly gaze. The way they acted, the way they slunk about. And the dearth of men, around the time Relmyna was pregnant. But it couldn't be. . .

"Cicero?" she asked--though it held the weight of a statement--her mouth dry. She licked her lips, looking first at the girls, then back at Relmyna. Anger began to curdle within her, a heat that melted the ice quickly and savagely. "Cicero?!"

Peryite, madness, was taking hold. Her orange eye flashed, the indigo turning to purple fire.

Ramsay, Euron, Maegi. Those were Cicero's children, the princes and princess of the forest. Not these two, these dumb, childish spiderlings, who chased frogs and ate poisons with little regard. It had only been the trio. Melonii royalty. Not these. Not this.