Huang Yanyan's POV:
Smoke stung my eyes, the village blazing around us like a funeral pyre, but I couldn't look away from her—Meilin, Yue's sister, my aunt, stepping out of that truck like a ghost with a vendetta. Her face was Yue's, older, scarred, eyes cold as the twisted Huang crest gleaming on her coat. My dagger—the one with my star, Yue's star—felt like lead in my hand, its twin lost somewhere in the barn's wreckage where Jian had vanished. Huang Zhao's mom. My uncle. The words choked me, Amber's street-smarts screaming to run, but Yanyan's blood—this damn royal mess—glued me to the dirt, knife up, heart hammering.
