I’ve always hated my older sister. Our parents made sure of that.

From the moment I was old enough to understand words, they taught me what Evelyn truly was. A curse. A harbinger. The daughter who nearly killed our mother just by being born.

“Sixteen hours of agony,” Mother told me once. “I nearly bled to death bringing her into this world. The healers said it was a miracle I survived at all.”

When the witch came with her prophecy—one sister would save the House, one would destroy it—they already knew which was which. Evelyn had tried to kill Mother before taking her first breath. My birth, two years later, was easy. Quick. Healthy.

More proof of what they already believed.

And now I stand in Father’s study, watching my parents tear each other apart over the sister who should have been disposed of years ago.

“This is your fault,” Father snarls at Mother. “You coddled her. Let her grow strong enough to actually run.”

“My fault?” Mother’s laugh cuts sharp as broken glass. “You’re the one who insisted we wait. ‘She’ll break eventually,’ you kept saying. ‘No need to rush.’ Look where your patience got us.”

“If you’d let me handle her after the training hall incident—”

“You wanted to exile her immediately! I said we needed to be careful, to plan properly!”

“And now she’s gone! With Cassandra’s egg!”

Their voices crash against each other like waves on rocks. I watch from the doorway, arms crossed, letting them exhaust themselves.

This is what they do. Blame each other.

Circle endlessly while the real problem escapes further from our reach.

“Enough,” I say finally. My voice slices through their bickering. “Fighting about the past won’t retrieve my egg.”

Both turn to face me. Father’s jaw clenches tight while Mother smooths her dress with trembling hands.

“Cassandra’s right,” Mother murmurs. “We need to focus on finding her, not assigning blame.”

Father moves to his desk, unrolling a map of our territories. “The scouts have been searching for three days. They found tracks heading east toward the outer settlements.”

“East?” I step closer to examine the parchment. “Toward the border passes?”

“The trail goes cold near the eastern reaches.” Father traces a line with his finger. “She could be hiding anywhere in the foothills by now.”

“Or she crossed into Aeloris,” Mother adds quietly.

A chill runs down my spine.

Aeloris is vast—dozens of enemy houses controlling the coastline, each guarding their sea dragons nests with jealous fury.

“She wouldn’t dare,” I say slowly. “The coastal lords don’t take kindly to mountain rogues.”

“Desperate people do desperate things.” Father’s expression darkens. “If she’s seeking shelter with one of the lesser houses…”

“What, trading our bloodline’s egg for protection?” Mother shakes her head. “Even Evelyn isn’t that stupid. Those minor houses would sooner steal the egg and turn her over to us for a reward.”

“Unless she found someone foolish enough to believe her lies.” I stare at the map, tracing possible routes. “She’s always been good at playing the victim.”

Father slams his fist on the desk. “Then what do you suggest? We can’t march forces into Aeloris without cause. It would start conflicts we can’t afford.”

“We don’t need forces. We need information.” I meet his eyes steadily. “Send spies to the minor houses. Merchants, travelers, anyone who won’t draw attention.”

“All of them? There must be two dozen lesser families scattered along that coast.”

“Then we start with the most likely. The houses who desperate enough to shelter a rogue for coin or leverage.” My nails dig into my palms. “She’s not clever enough to hide for long.”

Mother laughs suddenly—a brittle, humorless sound. “Perhaps she walked straight to the Black Dragon’s gates. Threw herself at Draven’s mercy.”

Father snorts. “She’d be dead before she finished begging. That man executes trespassers for sport. Even Evelyn knows better than to cross into his territory.”

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