She usually did not come when called. Of course he could force her, make her, but he would not. The ties that bound them were already too fragile.
She stared down at the note, delivered by raven because its sender was a dramatic ninny, and debated whether to go.
Ravena, it began.
No “My dearest daughter”. No “My sharpened Knife”. No, just Ravena, without endearments, for the first time in thousands of years, and she could not decide if this omission made her happy or cut her a little more deeply.