CHAPTER SIXTY THREE - What Remains After Fire

Eleanor Cross sat perfectly still by the window of her tower room, her once-vibrant silver hair now dull and streaked with white. Seven years of captivity had hollowed her cheeks and dimmed the violet eyes she had passed to her daughter, but when she turned at the sound of the opening door, a spark of their old intensity returned. "Aria," she breathed, rising unsteadily to her feet. Aria crossed the room in three quick strides, wrapping her arms around her mother's fragile form. Eleanor's body felt bird-like beneath the flowing silk robe, all sharp angles and too-prominent bones. "I thought I'd never see you again," Aria whispered, fighting back tears. Eleanor pulled back slightly, cupping Aria's face between cool, dry palms. "Let me look at you. My brave, beautiful girl." For several moments, neither spoke, simply absorbing the reality of their reunion. Then Eleanor glanced nervously at the door. "We don't have much time," she said urgently. "Viktor will allow only brief visits