She's everything I am not.
Where I've learned to carry myself with the confident authority of someone who has survived marriage to a Shadow Lord, she stands with the perfect poise of someone who hasnever doubted her place in the world. Where my hair tends toward unruly waves that I fight into submission, hers falls in gleaming curtains of pure gold. Where I've developed a wariness that keeps me constantly alert for threats, she projects the serene composure of someone who has always been protected.
She wears the traditional white robes of a Light Court heir, but hers are perfect—no wrinkles, no stains, no signs of the wear that comes from actually living in the world. The light magic that radiates from her skin is steady and controlled, creating a soft golden glow that makes her look almost ethereal.
She is what I was supposed to be. If I had never been sold to the Shadow Court. If I had never learned to fight for survival. If I had never fallen in love with a man who taught me that power can be as much about protection as domination.
She is the daughter my father kept.
"Nesilhan." My father's voice carries across the pavilion. "My daughter. Thank you for coming."
"I came because the Council commanded this meeting. And because I need to meet the sister you hid from me."
My voice comes out steadier than I expected. Colder. Good. They need to recognise my icy tone of voice. Warmth would break me.
A muscle twitches in Father's jaw. He hadn't expected that—the brutal honesty, the immediate attack.
Solene steps forward, and when she speaks, her voice is like music—too perfect, too controlled. Trained. Polished. Nothing like the rough edges Zoran and I developed growing up in Father's shadow.
"Sister," she says. "I've dreamed of meeting you."
"I dreamed you were dead." The words come out sharp as glass. "We all did. We mourned you."
She flinches. The first crack in her porcelain composure.
"I wanted to reach out," she says softly. "So many times, I wanted?—"
"But you didn't." Zoran's voice cuts in, flat and hard. "And you didn't."
Solene's gaze drops. "Father said it wasn't safe. That the prophecy made it too dangerous for us to know each other. That one day, when the time was right?—"
"The time was right when we were children," I interrupt, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "The time was right when I used to pray to gods I didn't believe in, begging them to bring you back."
My voice cracks on the last word. I clamp my jaw shut, forcing the emotion back down.
I will not break. Not here. Not in front of him.
Solene's eyes are bright with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know—father never told me any of it. He said you knew I was alive but that it was safer to keep us apart. He said?—"
She stops. Looks at father with something new dawning in her expression.
"He lied to me too," she realizes slowly. "Didn't he?"
I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
But then I look at her perfect robes and her perfect poise and her perfect life, untouched by the chaos that's consumed mine, and the sympathy curdles into something bitter.
She got to be hidden. Protected. Safe.
I got to be sold to a Shadow Lord and expected to die.
"Yes," I say quietly. "He lied to all of us. That's what he does."
Father clears his throat. "We are not here to discuss family matters," he says, his voice smooth as polished stone. "We are here to discuss peace. The Light Court Council has authorized me to offer terms."
"I'm listening." My hand finds Kaan's, a warning. His fingers close around mine, his skin cold from the shadows that cling to him.
"Return to the Light Court. Help stabilize the realm barriers before they collapse completely."
