She felt the woman lean forward. “I run an organization where women are valued. Where intelligence and strength are admired rather than tolerated. A woman of your caliber would do exceptionally well with us.”
Isla felt the blood rush to her head with a cold, furious clarity—the tone, the implication. They wanted to recruit her. These people who had attacked her friends.
“You are an impressive lady, Isla,” the woman continued, each syllable deliberate. “Your degrees, your papers, your lectures—your brilliance is spoken of in rooms where men still presume to judge. So many doors have been shut on women of talent. We open them.”
Isla’s spine stiffened even as pride flared. Shehadfought for every bit of recognition, accepted slights, worked twice as hard,but she hadn’t done it for praise. Yes, she had wanted to do well, to be able to provide for herself to escape her childhood. Yes, it made her feel valued, and she wasn’t sure if seeking the praise of others was a healthy habit. But ultimately, she had done it for security. That way no one could leave her alone and helpless with nothing to her name.
“You have risen from the ashes, Isla.”Another voice spoke this time, a man’s voice, almost fatherly.“I’ve seen it—the day you stood in that great hall, collecting your first-class honors. The men around you whispering that your brilliance wasunexpectedfrom a woman—oh, how your smile never faltered. You held your head high, did you not?”
Isla’s breath caught.How could he know that?
“And later,”the voice continued, circling her like a cat with a cornered mouse,“I saw you at the lectern—the youngest professor in your department. I can still hear the applause when you dismantled poor Dr. Redfern’s argument in front of his own students.”
The darkness suddenly felt too tight. Isla tugged at her bonds, her pulse thudding in her ears. That hadn’t been one of her finest moments; Doctor Redfern had been trying to put her down, and she had retaliated, using her knowledge as a weapon. She hadn’t meant to humiliate him. This man spoke as if that were a good memory, one she should be proud of.
“Then there was the prize,”the man went on, his tone lilting, almost nostalgic.“The ribbon pinned to your lapel, the way your heart swelled because, for once, theysawyou. And that little clipping, the one you pinned to your corkboard—‘Miss Cole’s Breakthrough Discovery.’ So proud. So deserved.”
Isla felt sick. That clipping had been in her private study. Under the confession was a sickening awareness: the way hespoke of Isla’s prizes and private triumphs was knowledge taken without permission.
“But my favorite,”he murmured,“is the memory of you at that long oak table, surrounded by men in gray suits, their voices drowning yours—until you made your quiet correction and left them speechless. That tiny, secret smile when you were proven right—that, Isla, is the face of power.”
The air in Isla’s lungs froze.
The old lady spoke again, her tone velvet. “We value that power. You’ve fought your whole life to be heard, to be equal. You came from nothing. With us, you wouldn’t need to fight. Join us, and you will never again be told you’re not good enough. You will have power and wealth. You will be admired.”
Isla shook her head slowly. “You’vereadme,” she whispered, horrified. “You’ve used my sweat to read my memories.”
“Such cleverness. Yes, my dear. You’ve just proven my point. You’ve only recently stepped into the world of the Aetherians, and yet you already grasp so many of its nuances.”
The thought hit her like a fist to the chest. Someone had read her memories. That was illegal. It was intimate—a trespass of the highest order. Isla’s jaw tightened. The flattery was twisted. She would never join them. Whoever this man was, he had not merely violated Isla’s mind; he had invaded the only space that truly belonged to her. Recruitment under such terms was not persuasion—it was coercion. She would not be owned.
And besides, did this deranged woman honestly believe she would turn against her friends? Were they even alive? The question sent a tremor through her chest.
“Join us, Isla,” the voice purred. “I will show you wealth beyond your wildest dreams. Power such as you have never imagined.”
Isla gritted her teeth. “I don’t know who you are, but I do know this—no amount of money or power could tempt me to stand beside those who do what you did tonight.”
A sharptapstruck the floor, reminding Isla of a child’s petulant stomp. Then something ghostly brushed her chin, a caress as light as gas. It tilted her face upward, forcing her to face the unseen figure though her world was still cloaked in black.
“I suggest you think again,” the woman murmured, “before you dismiss my offer so hastily.”
“You attacked my friends,” Isla hissed.
“Friends?” the voice repeated, sweetly mocking. “Oh, my dear, is that what you call them? Once we had you, we let them go. They didn’t even try to stop us. Not one. They left you behind. To them, you weren’t worth the risk.”
A pause—long, deliberate. The words slithered in, half truth, half poison, coiling around the oldest fear in Isla’s heart.
A single tear slipped down Isla’s cheek, hot against her cold skin.
“Ah,” the woman sighed in pleasure. “There it is.”
Isla felt the faintest tremor of air beside her face as the glass vile caught the tear on her cheek. The Aqua Summoner was going to steal more memories. Her body shuddered.
“They didn’t want you, Isla. Just as your parents didn’t. Do you remember the day they left you?” the man said.
Her breath caught.
“They dumped you at the orphanage gates in London without so much as a backward glance,” the voice went on,almost tender now. “The matron never wanted you either—you were a strain on their funds. And the other girls?” A soft laugh. “They whispered about you, didn’t they? Mocked the way you dreamed of a better life. The clever little girl who didn’t belong anywhere.”
