Sam’s POV:
It’s been days since our Angel almost drowned from us. Rory hasn’t left her side. He’s not like me: restless. I want to be there with her, too, but the memory of her almost rejecting me hits me every time I enter her room. I can’t take the pain, knowing I deserve it. It’s my fault she felt unsafe.
I concentrate my wasted energy on investigating what happened that night. Angel’s friend claimed the person she caught by the river turned into a rotting corpse. We never found a corpse by the river. Clearly, it was an elven illusion. No witch, wizard, fey, and so on use illusion in the same way and magnitude as elves. That’s how they have kept themselves hidden for so long.
We don’t know how many elves are in our kingdom. The numbers are small thanks to the blood pact between Rory
