“When you told me, you thought he was practicing reading aloud, working through some stutter or nervous habit.” Calista’s mouth twitched. “You were so naive. I finally had to tell you to stop being such a coward and confront him. And when you did, you were so red you looked like you’d been cooked alive. But you had that book in your hands.”
“And after that, you started trading books. His were always novels, something you weren’t allowed to touch, and yours... well, those boring philosophical texts you loved so much. But even after you figured him out, I still found you two there—him in that alcove, reading to the empty air. And you, sitting outside, listening. It was pathetic, but sweet.”
Elara was stunned. Dumbfounded.
They had been close—not like she and Thane, but close enough that Calista’s words twisted something sharp in her chest. Friends, perhaps. Maybe more.
How could he have kept that from her? What was the point of hiding it? He’d had chances—too many to count—and he’d said nothing.
She shook her head, forcing the thoughts aside. She’d deal with him later. Confront him when she could make sense of what it meant.
Still… it was strange.
She leaned forward, teeth catching her lower lip as the next question pressed at her. She hesitated. Was it safe? Could Calista be trusted with it?
“Just ask me.”
Elara flinched, her thoughts crashing to a halt. “What?”
Calista smirked, a knowing look in her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. “I can see the question written all over your face. You were always like that as a child—searching for more, never satisfied. Tristan said you could be trusted, so ask.”
Tristan saidIcould be trusted?Elara tried to process that, a flicker of something warm and confusing twisting in her chest. She exhaled slowly.
“I need Osin’s dagger.”
Calista went still, the air in the room seeming to freeze with her. Slowly, too slowly, her lips curled into a cruel smile. “And what exactly do you plan to do with that dagger, Hallowed?”
It was a fair question, but Elara didn’t know how to answer without veering too far in either direction—too vague, and Calista would close off; too open, and it could get her into trouble. But something inside her stirred, a truth she hadn’t quite let herself touch before now. She went out on a limb.
“I’m going to kill him.”
She’d known it, deep down, for longer than she was sure she even realized. Freeing the Sidhe, getting Thane out of the Void—those had been the plans she’d spoken aloud. But in the quiet spaces of her thoughts, in the darker corners of her mind, she’d seen herself sliding that blade straight into Osin’s heart.
Calista’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it grew wider. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Elara’s pulse quickened. “Can it be done?”
Calista tilted her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. What Idoknow is that the only time he ever parts with it is when he’s in his chambers. He enchants it, hides it?—”
“In a painting.”
Calista’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening. “Correct.”
Elara shifted slightly, clarifying, “I’ve seen it. I have a memory.”
The shift in Calista’s expression was immediate. Her face darkened, something fierce and dangerous flickering in her eyes. The sudden rage in her made Elara freeze, her mind scrambling to make sense of the change.
“Many girls do,” Calista said, her voice low and venomous. “Some, fortunately or unfortunately, do not.”
Elara blinked, the meaning of her words sinking in, and her heart stuttered.
Was she saying…
I had a younger sister. She was allowed to be free—spirited, wild. Not that it saved her in the end.
Had. Past tense. Elara’s thoughts churned, the sinking realization pressing down on her like a stone. This wasn’t just about Calista’s ambition or the hunger for power she’d assumed was driving her. No, this felt darker. Deeper. Rolfe had mentioned Calista angling for Osin’s attention for months now, playing the game of politics, positioning herself like she wanted to be queen. But what if that wasn’t it anymore? What if her goal had changed?
“Do you know the spell to get it out of the painting?”
