She walked into the center of the foyer. Her sharp grey eyes—the same eyes as Bastian's—scanned the room.
They landed on Bastian. She nodded once.
Then they landed on Anaïs. She sneered.
Finally, they landed on Sacha.
Victoria froze.
She stared at the boy. She looked at his jawline. She looked at his eyes.
The greedy glint in her eyes was unmistakable. It was the look of a dragon seeing a pile of gold.
"So," Victoria said, her voice dry and rasping. "It's true. Sienna wasn't lying for once."
She walked toward Sacha.
Anaïs tightened her grip on Sacha's hand instinctively, her body moving before her mind. She would take him.
The thought struck like a blade. She felt Bastian step closer, his shoulder brushing hers.
Victoria stopped two feet away from Sacha. She leaned down, inspecting him.
"Stand up straight, boy," Victoria commanded. "A St. Yves does not slouch."
Sacha blinked. He looked at this scary old lady. He looked at her cane.
