 He is the son of Orhan.
Evren’s eyes dropped to the colt. A fist of ice clutched at her gut. She searched for the resemblances and saw them almost immediately, plain as day. Those eyes… that build… it was unmistakable. Evren stared at the child for longer than she’d intended, her throat growing tight and her breathing quick.
When her gaze returned to A’idah, it was moist with emotion, though her expression was still unreadable. A’idah… Yes, of course… Her father had spoken about the mare once or twice, with a strange quality to his voice that had always made Evren think they had been more than just friends. It was the same tone he had taken when he spoke of Evren’s own mother.
Gods. They had conceived and borne a child in the time she’d been gone. She really had been away too long.
“I’m Evren,” she finally managed. “Orhan’s daughter. I don’t know where you’ve been, A’idah, but… something terrible happened some days ago. I’m guessing… you haven’t heard?”
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