Sable touched her now-smooth cheek in stunned silence. Jowls gone, no longer resembling a bulldog.
“You… reversed my age?”
Esther panicked. “I’m sorry!”
Luna shot up like an alert prairie dog. “Esther. Sweetheart. Cinsbun. Precious flower.Do me next.”
“No,” Nythir barked.
“I’m serious! Tighten my jawline! Give me back my twenty-year-old thighs!”
“No.”
“What about fifteen? I was adorable at fifteen.”
“Absolutely not.”
Sable added, “I wouldn’t object to a second round—”
“Out.” Nythir grabbed Luna by the elbow. Vorrik took Sable by the hand. Together, they herded both sisters into the hallway like misbehaving goats.
Luna shrieked like a goat, too. “Let the girl express her art!”
“You’re banned,” Nythir said.
“You can’t ban me!”
“Watch me.”
The door slammed. Silence returned.
Lyssara looked between Essie and Nythir. “Explain why Luna was here.”
Vorrik cleared his throat. “In simple words.”
Esther wrapped her arms around herself. “I… can’t.”
Lyssara stepped closer. “Essie—”
“No.” Essie backed up. “Please stop asking.”
Vorrik raised his hands in surrender. Lyssara exhaled hard, frustrated but understanding.
Nythir stepped to Essie’s side. “She’ll speak when she’s ready.”
He held her gaze. Those amber eyes of hers were going to be the end of him.
He had spent his life trading in secrets. Guarding them. Selling them. Burying them when necessary.
This one, he decided, would never be currency.
Whatever Essie carried—past, power, or crown—was hers to reveal. And anyone who tried to take it from her before she was ready would answer to him.
Until then, he would be the space between her and the world. He did not frame it as devotion or destiny. He framed it as a necessity. And necessities were things he did not abandon.
He’d fight off every goddess-blessed, chaos-infused, boundary-obliterating information broker in the country to protect her.
Even if that was Luna. Especially if it was Luna.
