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Elias rolls onto his back and flips me off without looking. “This is why no one takes you seriously.”
“Correction. They take me too seriously. That’s the problem.” I smirk, stalking over to Luna. I nudge her ankle with my foot. “You want to help me?”
She smiles like she knows I’m about to drag her into trouble, but she doesn’t say no.
I spin on my heel and gesture for Elias to follow. “Up. Come. Now. This is an emergency.”
“Unless someone’s dying, I’m not moving.”
I pause. “Your styleisdying. Tragic. Now move.”
Elias sighs like I’m asking him to run a marathon. But he gets up, slouching behind me like a reluctant ghost.
I lead them down the hallway, past the old wing that still carries the scent of fire and old magic, straight to the room thattechnicallyused to be mine. The one Itechnicallynever gave up. The door creaks open, and I usher them inside with a theatrical bow.
Elias raises a brow. “You dragged us in here for—what, memories?”
“Shut up,” I whisper, grinning. I press my finger to my lips and walk to the far wall. Luna leans in, curious, her hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain. I shoot her a wink before pressingthebutton.
A soft hiss. A mechanicalclick. And then the wall splits open.
Elias stares.
“Welcome,” I say, voice low and reverent, “tothe Closet.”
It’s not just a wardrobe. It’s anarchive. Floor-to-ceiling racks of clothes categorized by era, occasion, danger level. Velvet from the 1600s. Leather from a biker gang that doesn’t exist anymore. A row of cloaks that all have stories I’ll never tell. And the crown jewel—my collection of suits. Impeccable. Untouchable.
Elias lets out a slow, horrified breath. “You’re a monster.”
“Excuse you.” I pull a hanger off the rack and hold it against his chest. “I’m avisionary.”
He swats my hand away. “You’ve got more outfits than personalities.”
“Iamall my personalities,” I say, pulling a navy blazer with silver threadwork off its perch. “Now, try this on.”
“Why?”
“Because if you wear that rat hoodie again, I will set it on fire. Slowly. In front of you.”
Luna laughs behind us. “You’re not even kidding.”
I turn, finger raised. “No. I’m not.”
It takes more bribes than I’m proud of, but eventually Elias tries on the blazer. It fitstoowell, and I hate him a little for it. I hate hima lotfor the way Luna bites her lip when she looks at him in it.
“Okay,” I mutter. “He can live.”
Elias starts to take it off, but I shake my head. “Nope. That’s yours now. You can’t return sacred relics.”
He snorts, tossing it over a chair. “Where do these end up when I forget to give them back?”
I glance at Luna. She shifts slightly, sheepish.
“Your room,” I say, smug. “Insidemysection of her closet.”
Luna flushes. “It’s not asection. It’s… organized chaos.”
“It’s a shrine,” Elias mutters.