I move on pure instinct. My hand shoots out, grabbing one of the silver forks from the table. The metal is cool against my palm. I throw it hard, aiming for center mass.
Celeste ducks, and the fork whistles past her head and embeds itself in a wooden post behind her. She laughs again, straightening up with that infuriating smile still on her face.
“Why so aggressive, Daciana?”
“Where are the guards?” Astra’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding. I can feel her turn toward the garden entrance, toward where her security should be stationed. “Guards!”
Silence.
Nothing but the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant chirp of birds.
“GUARDS!” Astra shouts again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Celeste’s laugh is like shattered glass. “Oh, they’re not coming, Your Majesty.”
My blood turns to ice.
“They’re all dead,” she says casually, like she’s commenting on the weather. She takes a step forward, and a beaming smile spreads across her face. “They should have let me in when I asked them nicely. Now, they’re dead.”
She laughs again, and the sound makes my skin crawl.
“You’re the necromancer.” The words tear out of me, raw and accusing. “You killed my entire family.”
Celeste lifts one hand, moving her fingers back and forth in a playful “no” gesture. “I spared two of your brothers, actually.”
My heart stops.
“They’re feeding my little pet.” Her smile widens. “You remember Cassandra?”
For a moment, I don’t register the name. It floats in the air, meaningless. Then, in the faintest part of my memories, barely a whisper, I recall a girl. Dark hair. Standing beside Elara. The memory is gossamer-thin, more feeling than image, but the name resonates in a place deeper than conscious thought.
Cassandra.
The dreams have been less intense lately, which I hoped was due to the curse’s grip weakening, but they’re still there. Fragments. Pieces. And I recognize that name.
“How would you remember?” Celeste’s voice drips with false sympathy. “You don’t even know how pitiful you are. But let me assure you that your brothers will serve a great cause. They will serve as fodder for the seer witch.”
There is only one Cassandra I know—or knew. For Celeste to bring her up, to imply she’s alive…
I see red.
“What have you done to Cassandra?” The question comes out slowly, each word deliberate. And I know—Elara knows—that this is all that matters.
Celeste looks surprised for a split second, and then, delight floods her features. “Don’t tell me you remember?”
I stare at her, every muscle in my body still coiled tight. “I asked you a question,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous level.
“Your little friend has been very useful.” Celeste starts to circle us. I watch her every movement, like prey tracking a predator. “You see, witches are the only ones who can achieve true immortality. But you have to be careful how you do it.” She gestures lazily with one hand. “Shifter blood is very powerful. Feed a witch shifter blood for thirty days, and you can increase her lifespan by sixty years.”
Horror grips me.
“How many centuries has it been?” Celeste laughs, the sound bright and terrible. “Your friend is alive, Daciana. Or should I call you Elara?”
The name—my real name—hits me like a physical blow. The pieces are falling into place with sickening clarity.
“You’re the necromancer,” I say again.
