"How long?" I whisper, staring at years of my own blood and tissue samples preserved in magical suspension. "How long have you been working with the Fae courts?"
"Five years." Sarah's voice is barely audible behind me. "Since my doctoral research on human capacity for divine magic caught their attention."
"And when did you decide I would make a good candidate for goddess transformation?"
"It wasn't like that?—"
"When, Sarah?"
She's quiet for so long I think she might not answer. When she finally speaks, her voice is broken. "Three years ago. When your blood work showed you had the genetic markers most likely to survive ascension to divine fertility magic."
Three years. Three years of sisterly conversations and family dinners and research collaboration, all while she planned to deliver me to a process that has killed every Fae woman who attempted it. All while she analyzed whether my death would be worth the scientific advancement she could gain.
"The virgin requirement," I say with dawning horror, bile rising in my throat. "You knew they needed someone untouched by another alpha. That's why you... with David..."
"No!" The denial explodes from her with desperate intensity. "That wasn't planned, Maya. That was just... it happened."
"But it was convenient." The pieces fall into place with sickening clarity, and I have to grip the edge of a table to stay upright as the full betrayal hits me. "My sexual trauma, my fear of intimacy, my remaining virgin—it made me the perfect candidate for goddess selection."
"Maya, please?—"
"Did you encourage David to leave me for you?" My voice rises to a near-scream, tears streaming down my face now. "Did you orchestrate my humiliation to ensure I'd stay untouched long enough to meet their requirements?"
Her silence is answer enough, and the sound that tears from my throat is part sob, part roar of rage.
I turn away from the laboratory, from the evidence of years of calculated manipulation, and face my sister directly. "Tell me about the survival odds. Seventy-three percent—what does that mean?"
"Based on your genetic markers, blood chemistry, and power affinity tests, there was a seventy-three percent chance you could survive the divine transformation that has killed other candidates."
"And the twenty-seven percent chance I would die?"
"Was... acceptable risk for the potential scientific gains."
"Acceptable risk." I laugh, and the sound carries enough divine power to make several of the magical instruments in the laboratory chime in response. "You gambled with my life—your own sister's life—for access to Fae magic and research opportunities."
"I believed you would survive!" Sarah's composure finally cracks, and I see tears streaming down her face. "Your genetic profile was stronger than any of the previous candidates. I thought... I hoped..."
"You hoped I was expendable enough to risk and valuable enough to succeed." The brutal summary hangs between us like a death sentence, and I wipe angry tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. "Tell me, Sarah—if our positions were reversed, if you had the genetic markers instead of me, would you have volunteered yourself for goddess transformation?"
"I couldn't. I'm not... I'm not virgin. The ascension requires?—"
"That's not what I asked." My voice drops to a whisper that somehow carries more menace than shouting, my whole body trembling with fury. "If you could have undergone this transformation yourself, would you have done it?"
Her silence tells me everything I need to know, and something breaks inside my chest—something that might never heal.
"You sacrificed me because you couldn't sacrifice yourself. You delivered your sister to potential death because thescientific opportunity was too valuable to pass up, and you were too cowardly to take the risk personally."
"I love you, Maya. I never wanted you to be hurt?—"
"You've been lying to me for three years. Testing my blood, analyzing my genetic markers, planning my potential sacrifice while pretending to care about my career and my happiness. You've used our sisterly bond to manipulate me into trusting you completely while working with the very people who might kill me."
I move through her secret laboratory, studying the charts and diagrams with my enhanced understanding. Research into fertility goddess magic, detailed analyses of divine transformation processes, medical notes about previous candidates who died when the power consumed them. She has documentation about all of it—the risks, the failure rate, the symptoms that precede magical burnout.
She knew exactly what she was sending me into.
"The Fae access," I observe, noting the advanced magical equipment that no human institution could afford. "Your payment for delivering a suitable candidate."
"Maya—"
