Mae’s smile flickers, fond and weary, a secret shared in silence.
Six centuries. The words snag in my chest. He says that so casually, as if time means nothing to them. Six hundred years ofthis? Of mentoring new brides for a cursed king? My stomach knots. Were they cursed, too? And if so, why?
Cassian’s grin returns, effortless and bright, breaking the tension as if he didn’t just drop a truth older than empires. “Learning is dreadfully overrated.”
Lyra exhales softly. “Wisdom chases you, brother, but you run faster.”
With that, our mentors set off down the eastern corridor, where the walls are lined with towering mirrors. Their tarnished silver reflects us strangely, warping and smearing our silhouettes. One of the mirrors ripples slightly as we pass. I try not to look too closely.
Marb flutters ahead, her voice light and musical. “Right, lovelies, stay together. The keep has a habit of… wandering.”
Beside me, Cassian’s boots click in a lazy rhythm. “Don’t listen to her,” he says with mock solemnity. “Noctyras only eats those who are terribly dull.”
“Then you should be safe,” I mutter.
He grins and leans in conspiratorially, his words only for me. “Ah, Miss Fairchild, already you wound me, too!”
“I detest that name,” I say sharply.
He arches a brow. “Do you? How rude, then, not to share your real one with your charming classmates. Though,” he adds mischievously, “perhaps also wise.”
My stomach twists. “How do you—”
Lyra’s head turns slightly, her piercing gaze finding him. The faintest crease of disapproval etches between her brows.
Cassian only grins wider, unbothered. “Relax, darling. Secrets are currency here. Tell you what—my sister and I will keep yours safely locked away. In exchange for a small favor.”
My pulse stumbles. “A favor?”
“To be named at a later time,” he says smoothly, like a man reciting an old verse.
Lyra exhales, her voice soft but cutting. “Cassian…”
“Oh, come now, sister,” he teases. “It’s a harmless bargain.”
“No bargain is harmless,” she murmurs. “And you know that.”
Bargins. Marb warned me not to make them. Yet here I was, about to make my first.
Their exchange hums with something ancient—older than the keep, older than the curse itself. It ripples through the air, prickling across my skin like static.
I cross my arms. “Why does it matter so much? It’s just a name.”
Both twins turn to me.
Lyra tilts her head. “Names, true names are not just words, child of Solmere. They are doors. Keys. Bindings.”
Cassian’s tone softens, almost reverent. “A true name carries your essence—your past, your power, your truth. Speak it to the wrong ear, and you’ll guide their knife to your throat.”
A chill runs down my spine. “So if someone knows my name, they can control me?”
“Notcontrol,” Cassian corrects. “But influence. Twist. Command. It depends on how the name is used… and who uses it.”
I swallow hard. The room suddenly feels too small. “And if I agree to your deal?”
The twins’ exchange lingers like static in the air, and I feel the weight of unseen threads tightening around us, an invisible hand closing over my name.
Cassian’s grin sharpens. “Then your secret is safe with us, Fire. But when I come to collect my favor”—he leans closer, his breath warm against my ear—“don’t pretend you weren’t warned.”
