Page 80 of Daughter of the Serpent

“No,” she admitted reluctantly. “Not toward me.”

His stare turned sharp. “Maybe the gods are playing tricks on you,” he muttered, but there was no humor in his voice. “They seem to have plenty up their sleeves for you lately.”

She huffed, pulling back and crossing her arms, her gaze darting to the distant crowd gathering for morning lessons. “Nothing makes sense anymore.”

His eyes lingered, studying her face. “Nothing ever does with you.”

Sylvie’s frown deepened, her eyes narrowing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Haldor exhaled, running a hand through his unruly hair, tension creasing his brow. “It means every time I look away, you’re neck - deep in trouble, dragging yourself into situations that could ruin you. I thought we had already talked about this. You need to lay low, stop putting yourself into situations that could cause alarm.”

“I’m trying my best - ”

“Clearly not. Where were you last night to even come across this bear?” His voice turned stern. “You need to be smart about this, Sylvie. Not out galavanting in the forest alone, at night. Not being in places you shouldn’t. That's what got you in this mess in the first place.”

Sylvie opened her mouth to protest, but movement at the temple gates caught her eye. The breath stilled in her throat.

Tara.

Even from this distance, Sylvie could see how the sisters flocked to her like bees to honey. Tara, ever statuesque, moved with careful grace, her expression unreadable as she was enveloped in warm greetings. Siv, the ever - compassionate, cupped Tara’s hands in her own, whispering something tender. Astrid, beamed as though welcoming lost family, back home.

And Tara - Tara did not look at her.

Sylvie felt her chest tighten. “She’s ignoring me.”

Haldor’s expression hardened. “Good.”

She whipped her head toward him, her brows knitting together. “Haldor - ”

“She’s not worthy of you,” he cut in, voice sharp. “One day, you’ll see that.”

Sylvie stared at him, something bitter creeping into her throat. “She was under my care. She trusted me.”

“She betrayed you,” he countered, his voice low. “And you refuse to see it. A real friend wouldn’t have turned her back on you, wouldn’t have lied,” he continued, his voice tight, his fists clenching at his sides. “I saw her that night, sneaking off and dancing with the laird’s son, her smile as bright as a full moon. Far from the innocent she claims to be. Why is it always you who pays the price, Sylvie? She got exactly what she deserved.”

“Then so did I.” Sylvie’s tone sharpened, cutting through his words. Her eyes met him with a certain fire. “She was under my care. I should have protected her. It was my failing, not hers.”

Haldor’s mouth tightened, the frustration creasing his brow. “You need to worry less about others and more about yourself. The trials could begin any day now - you can’t afford to be distracted by Tara’s... theatrics.” He sighed.

Sylvie cast a glance across the room, where Tara sat at the center of attention, her fellow sisters hovering around her. Tara’s movements were slow, almost delicate, each one drawing out a murmur of sympathy from the group. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips quivered just so, a portrait of frailty. Yet there was a gleam in her eyes that Sylvie couldn’t quite place, something that made her chest twist with doubt.

Did Haldor see something in Tara that she had missed?

Was there truth in his words?

She swallowed her reservations, pushing the thoughts down deep. Whatever the truth, Tara was still her friend - or at least, she hoped she was.

She pulled away from him, stepping toward the temple. “I have to talk to her.”

His sigh was one of exasperation, but he didn’t try to stop her.

Sylvie wove through the throng of bodies, her pulse hammering in her ears. The weight of countless stares pressed against her, whispers trailing in her wake.

Shame. Suspicion. Judgement.

But none of it mattered. Only Tara mattered.

Yet, when she reached her, she barely spared her a glance.