Every statue had my face.
But when I stepped closer, I saw the differences. The tilt of the chin. The shape of the brows. The softness or sharpness in the eyes.
They weren't random copies.
They were me at different stages of my life.
One showed me younger, thinner, with quiet sadness still clinging to my shoulders. Another captured me standing tall, dressed in a gown I remembered too well.
I felt sick.
The Blackwells hadn't just watched the Morrigans from a distance. They had studied us. Tracked us. Collected us like trophies.
The thought of being observed like prey made my skin crawl. My instincts stirred low in my chest, warning me not to show weakness.
I couldn't fall apart.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
I pointed at the statue in the elegant gown. "This was the piano competition, wasn't it? The one I won." I swallowed. "You must've been twelve back then."
