Morning light filters through my narrow window, pale and unforgiving. I barely slept after the nightmare. Every time I closed my eyes, Cassandra’s blade waited in the darkness, gleaming with cruel promise.

A knock sounds at my door. I flinch before I can stop myself, heart lurching painfully.

“Evelyn?” Sera’s voice, calm and measured. “Are you awake?”

I cross the room on unsteady legs and open the door. Sera stands in the corridor, dressed in simple clothing rather than her usual observer’s garb. The change softens her sharp features.

“I thought you might join me for tea this morning,” she says. “My quarters are warmer than this drafty corner of the compound.”

The invitation catches me off guard. After last night’s vulnerability, I expected distance. Not this unexpected gesture of kindness.

“Why?” The question escapes before I can soften it.

“Because you look like you haven’t eaten in days, and tea helps most things.” She tilts her head slightly. “Unless you’d prefer to spend the morning alone with your thoughts?”

I consider refusing. Every instinct screams that this is a test—another way to extract information for Lord Draven. But I’m desperately tired of being alone.

“I’ll come,” I say, surprising myself with the decision.

Sera’s quarters surprise me. Warm tapestries cover the stone walls, depicting dragons soaring over coastal cliffs. Dried herbs hang from ceiling beams, filling the air with pleasant fragrance. A small fire crackles in the hearth.

She gestures toward a cushioned chair near the fire. “Sit. I’ll prepare the tea.”

I settle into the chair, watching her move through the familiar ritual. The normalcy of it—kettle over flames, leaves measured into cups—soothes something raw inside me.

“You handled last night poorly,” Sera says without turning around. “But you survived it. That counts for something.”

“I fell apart in a corridor. That’s hardly surviving.”

“You didn’t hurt yourself. You didn’t run into the night. You let someone help you.” She pours steaming water into ceramic cups. “Many can’t manage even that much.”

She brings the tea and settles across from me. The cup warms my cold fingers instantly.

“Tell me about your family,” Sera says. “The real version. Not the story you’ve been telling everyone here.”

My grip tightens on the cup. “I told you last night.”

“You told me fragments. Terror-soaked pieces that don’t form a complete picture.” Her eyes hold mine steadily. “If you want this house to trust you, start by trusting us with the truth.”

I stare into my tea, watching steam curl upward like escaping ghosts.

“They hated me,” I whisper. “My parents, my sister—they all hated me from the moment I was born. I never understood why.”

“Hatred rarely needs logic. What did they do to you?”

“Everything.” The memories surface like poison. “My sister once told our weapons master I’d stolen from the armory. She planted evidence in my quarters. I was locked in the cellars for three days without food.”

I swallow hard against the tightness in my throat. “When I emerged, she was wearing my grandmother’s pendant—the one thing I treasured. My sister claimed I’d given it to her as an apology. They always believed her over me.”

“But you trained anyway,” Sera observes. “Your skills didn’t develop from nothing.”

“In secret. At night. Whenever I could steal moments without being caught.” I set down my cup before my trembling hands spilled it. “I worked twice as hard as anyone, and it was never enough.”

Sera sips her tea, letting silence stretch between us.

“And the dragons? Your family refused to let you bond?”

The question strikes too close to my hidden truth.

“They said I was unworthy. That no dragon would ever choose someone like me.” Bitterness floods my throat. “My sister received everything—the egg, the betrothal, our parents’ love. I received only contempt.”

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