"A wandering... slave?" A slight curve touched Evangeline's lips, but her tone was ice-cold.
The Iridian Youth's pupils contracted sharply. He opened his mouth to reply, but a fluorescent light was already pressing against the space between his brows. His body swayed, his mind felt as if it had been cast into the clouds, and his consciousness instantly fragmented.
The glow of the Enchanting Spell still lingered on Evangeline's fingertip. Her eyes were glacial. "Where is Drake?"
The Iridian Youth's gaze was vacant. He spoke as if in a dream. "In the Goldeagle Tribe."
Evangeline's eyes narrowed, a sharp glint flashing within them. "Drake's birth clan?"
The Iridian Youth's expression was wooden. His neck moved in a stiff nod, as though he were a puppet on strings.
By the time his senses returned, the beautiful woman was nowhere to be seen.
