CELESTE’S POV
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“Is there a need for any of that?” Atasha asked, almost innocently. Celeste frowned. Atasha had always been like that. Easily manipulated, vulnerable and stupid. She hated to admit that seeing Atasha like this was truly… infuriating her. Sadly, she couldn’t even do a thing about it.
They were still on the balcony, the candles snuffed, the dishes gone, the fur–draped chairs pushed back. Only the cold air and the memory of what she had interrupted remained. From the way the table had been cleared in a hurry, it was obvious she had walked straight into something meant to be private. That alone made her teeth grind.
Atasha did not deserve it!
“Is there a need for you to act like I had been bullied?” Atasha asked again, head tilted slightly, voice soft. Celeste knew that tone. It was not sharp or accusing. It was simply confused. “You were the one who got stabbed.”
Of course she would say that.
Celeste’s gaze flicked briefly to Grace, who stood near the balcony doors with her hands behind her back, face carefully blank. Atasha had not dismissed her the way she had let Cassian dismiss the servants earlier. Celeste had noticed that immediately.
So she wanted an audience for this.
“I am only concerned about you,” Celeste said, dragging her eyes back to her sister. She let her shoulders slump a little, made sure her voice trembled at the edges. “Everyone is refusing to let me see you. I wake up with a knife wound, I throw myself in front of an attack meant for you, and when I try to come to you, they shut the door in my face. All I wanted-”
“You were healed sister,” Atasha interrupted as she pulled her brows together. “And… It was Cassian,” she said. “He wanted you safe. The danger has not passed yet. The witches might try again and this time, they might target the one that I cared the most.”
“Moreover,” Atasha added. “He wanted me safe.”
“So he wanted you imprisoned instead?” Celeste asked.
Atasha blinked. “Do you see me inside any prison, Sister?” she asked. She spread one hand lightly, as if to gesture at the open balcony, the sky, the view over the Northern fortress. “I am standing here, speaking with you.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. She almost laughed, except the sound would have been wrong for the role she was playing. “You really do not understand, do you?” she asked. She did not bother to hide the mix of disbelief and pity in her tone.
Atasha frowned. “What do you mean?”
Celeste took a slow breath, as if she were steadying herself, when in truth she was arranging her words. “Your
19:23 Fri, Dec 12
Chapter 208
49
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husband is trying to isolate you,” she said. “From me. From the South. From anyone who might remind you that you had a life before this fortress and its cold walls.”
Atasha’s lips parted, confusion written plainly across her face. That expression used to make Celeste feel powerful when they were younger. It still did. “That is not what he is doing,” Atasha said. “Cassian is not-”
“He did not let me see you,” Celeste cut in, lifting her chin. “You healed me in moments. You closed a knife wound like it was a scratch. The healers were fussing over nothing. Yet suddenly there were rules. Suddenly I must rest. Suddenly I must not disturb you. Suddenly I am a danger to your peace because I want to speak to my own sister after almost dying in her place.”
She could feel Grace’s attention sharpen from the side, but she kept her eyes on Atasha.
“You are putting your life in danger every time you step out of this room,” Celeste went on, voice gaining strength. “Witches are hunting you. Fallen enemies know your face now. You walk in courtyards where knives can find you, you bleed yourself dry in infirmaries for men who you haven’t probably met before, and what does your husband do? He does not even let you decide who you speak to afterward. He sends guards. He gives orders. He controls your days, your nights, your visitors.”
Atasha’s mouth pressed into a line. “He is protecting me,” she said slowly. “There is a difference.”
“Is there?” Celeste asked, letting a bitter little laugh slip out. “Sister, I love seeing you like this. I do. Strong and needed. Not hiding in corners while others pretend you are invisible. But you need to see the truth. You are risking your life for his fortress, and yet he cannot trust you enough to let you choose when to see your only sister. How is that protection? It sounds like control.”
She watched Atasha’s face carefully.
There was no flash of anger or any immediate defense. Just that same thoughtful look she always wore when she was trying to balance two truths in her head. It made Celeste want to shake her. Why was this woman so stupid?
“My husband is not like that,” Atasha said finally. “He is not trying to keep me from you. The witches attacked. The North was almost breached. He is trying to keep everyone alive, including us.”
Of course she would defend him.
Celeste softened her expression, as if she were the one trying to be patient now. She stepped closer and reached for Atasha’s hand. When Atasha did not pull away, Celeste curled her fingers around hers.
“Then prove it,” Celeste said quietly. “If he is not trying to cut you away from me, if he is not trying to keep you here as nothing but his healer and his consort, ask him for something that does not serve the North first.”
Atasha’s brow creased. “What are you talking about?”
“Ask him to visit the South,” Celeste said. She let the words come out soft, almost pleading. “Ask him to let you travel with an escort to heal Father.”
Atasha froze.
There it was. The pause Celeste had been reaching for since the park. Atasha’s fingers went still in her grip. Her lashes lowered slightly, hiding her eyes for a heartbeat.
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Chapter 208
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Celeste did not give her time to retreat into that quiet thinking place she always used to go when something hurt too much. She dropped to her knees in front of her, the movement sudden enough that Grace took an involuntary step forward.
“Atasha,” Celeste said, lifting her sister’s hand to her forehead as if they were alone and not standing under the eyes of a northern lieutenant. “Please. If he truly cares for you and not just for what you can do for his soldiers, ask him. Ask him to bring you south, even for a short time, so you can save our father before it is too late.”
“I know you and Father had your differences,” Celeste said. “I know you resented him for how he treated you after he learned you were wolfless. I know you hated being sent here like… like some offering they hoped would not come back.”
Atasha’s throat moved. She did not answer, but that was fine. Silence was easier to fill.
“But he is still our father,” Celeste pushed on. “The reason we are alive. The reason we were fed when other children were sent away. The reason you had a roof instead of a cage. Yes, he was harsh. Yes, he was wrong. I will say it. He was wrong. But he is still the man who held you when you had fevers, the man who carried you home when you collapsed after training, the man who went to war so we could sleep in beds and not in ditches.”
She tightened her grip on Atasha’s hand as if she could keep her from pulling away physically and mentally.
“We can let bygones be bygones,” she whispered. “We can show him that his mistake did not break you. That you are not the useless wolf he- no.” She corrected herself quickly, as if the word had slipped. “Not just him. That everyone in the pack thought you were. You can walk back into the South as the woman they tried to throw away and prove that you came back stronger than all of them.”
Atasha’s gaze
flicked toward the railing, toward the snow beyond. Her jaw set, but she did not interrupt.
“Please, Sister,” Celeste said. “Do it for me. Do it for the woman who stood by you when they whispered behind your back. When they said you were a waste of a name, who was there? Who shared your bed when you woke from nightmares? Who sat beside you when they refused to look at your face at dinner?”
Images flashed through her own mind as she spoke, some true, some twisted just enough to fit her story.
Then she added.
“Do it for the woman who would take a knife in your stead.”
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