Page 24

“I suppose that answers the question of whether they’re still pretending to be just friends ,” Sarina murmured.

Ivain crossed his arms and muttered, “I always said friends don’t sit that close together on the couch. Or spend so much time making eyes from across the room.”

“Oh, that’s right. The long, wistful gazes.” Sarina chuckled tiredly. “It’s still a wonder they thought no one noticed.”

Skye sighed—deeply—and stood. Without a word, he disappeared into his room.

Aimee watched him go, taking in the height, the lean build, the way his dark hair fell in that maddeningly careless way. Shards, he really was pretty.

Maybe, if things had been different… if Talya hadn’t always been in the way…

“Were you tempted?” Kato asked suddenly.

Aimee turned her attention back to him. “Tempted by what?”

They both threw their discards on the pile.

“Make no mistake—the glamour was top-tier,” Kato said. “But it’s not every day someone hands you the perfect opportunity to take out your rival. One tiny slip—whoops, glamour gone wrong.”

Her mouth curled—not a smile, but something smaller and far meaner. No . She hadn’t been tempted. She’d made that glamour with shaking hands and stupid hope. Because if there was even a chance— even a chance —that it was Cori, she wasn’t going to be the reason they lost her again.

She wasn’t a monster. And Kato could choke on the implication.

“That’s my blood in there,” she said, voice low and full of venom. “How dare you.”

Kato held up his hands, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Pardon. Truly. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Well, it would’ve made a great story, you know?

Skylen loses the love of his life, who just so happens to be your long-lost cousin.

Your mutual grief brings you together, and therein you discover your love .

I hear High Lady Caeli loves great stories.

” His eyes flicked up, sharp. “But you already know that.”

Correction: Kato was a damn nuisance when he was sober.

Time to shut down this line of questioning. Nobody here needed to know just how close she was to achieving her goals.

She laid her cards on the table. “Curse. Which gives me a triple Curse bonus. You owe me the winning pot times three, and if you don’t have the coin to pay up are obligated to transfer the equal or greater value of the sum in items immediately off your person, assets, or holdings.”

Kato cursed and slammed his cards onto the table.

Aimee tsked her tongue. “Language, please.”

A delicate ribbon of water wended through her fingers, shaping into a tiny, marching soldier that she sent to collect her prize.

Scrape. Click .

One by one, her little soldier dragged the coins to her side.

Scrape. Click .

“I like your watch,” she mused.

Kato scowled but yanked it off his wrist, tossing it over.

“Throw in your cufflinks, and we’ll call it square.”

He grumbled and surrendered those too. “Joke’s on you. They’re not mine. They’re Skye’s.”

Scrape. Click.

“I don’t care who pays your tab, Kato, only that it gets settled.”

Scrape… click.

“Is that really necessary?”

“I think so.” Chin resting on her hands, Aimee’s sly smile widened.

Talya’s door opened then, saving him from further humiliation as Aiden finally appeared.

Exhaustion clung to her brother like a second skin, his sleeves haphazardly rolled up and splattered with dried blood. The fatigue carved into his face told a story of long hours and grim work.

The rest of the room stirred, rising—except for Aimee, who remained seated.

“Is she missing any fingers?” The question was out before she could stop it.

Aiden frowned at her, and Aimee pressed her lips together.

He turned to the others. “Taly’s going to be fine.”

Sarina exhaled deeply, breaking into a relieved smile as Ivain swept her into his arms. Skye just stood there, unblinking, like the words hadn’t quite sunk in.

“Can we see her?” he asked.

Aiden shook his head. “She’s in a healing sleep to help with the pain. I’d like to let her stabilize before bringing her back around.”

“What’s wrong with her then?” Aimee asked, tapping a nail against the tabletop. The sooner they got through this, the sooner she could leave.

Aiden rummaged through his duffel. Without looking up, he asked, “Do you remember how many times we had to stop everything to search for Cori’s airbalm? Even after we strung it around her neck, she was always losing it.”

Aimee scowled. “I still say she did it on purpose.”

Cori had been vocal about her hatred of the device.

Ivain cut in. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Aiden held up a finger. “When Aimee and I were kids, our baby cousin—who we now know is Taly—had a condition. Earthlung. It’s common in children conceived in low-aether environments like the mortal realm.”

Aimee went very still.

“It’s easy to treat,” Aiden continued. “But Aunt Breena never trusted the healers in Lycia. She was convinced they were all working for High Lord Auberin and didn’t want him to know about the baby until they were safely back in her husband’s court.”

And for good reason. Children born to powerful families rarely lived long without protection. What better way to cripple a rival family than to snuff out its future early?

Aiden finally found what he was looking for. He pulled a slim, iridescent device from his bag—a thin tube of crystal set into a delicate metal framework. He loaded a vial of glowing liquid into its center and pressed a small switch. The device hummed, flashing violet.

“In the interim, Cori had one of these,” he said. “It’s called an airbalm. The plaques from Earthlung thicken over time, eventually blocking aether absorption completely. The airbalm breaks them up.”

He handed it to Sarina, who turned it over carefully. “So… Taly has Earthlung?”

Aiden nodded. “If I had to piece together what happened, I’d say once she left the palace, the strain of travel plus the low-aether environment combined to exacerbate the condition. I can only imagine the pain. Earthlung is… well, it’s excruciating.”

Skylen’s eyes narrowed at that. His head tilted. But whatever question was there, he didn’t give voice to it.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Sarina whispered. Ivain placed a hand on her arm, his expression grim but reassuring.

Aiden cleared his throat. Everyone’s attention re-focused. “I’ve already begun treatment,” he said. “The plaques were so thick I had to cut them away, so that actually gives us a pretty good head start. We have a clean canvas, so to speak.”

Surgery, then. That explained the blood-soaked towels.

“She’ll need the airbalm for a few more days, but after that, she should be fine. Earthlung rarely resurfaces once it’s been treated.”

The realization was slow to sink in. Talya was okay. Or would be. All that drama, the hand-wringing—it had all been wasted.

Ivain and Sarina shared a look. Then laughed. Then met each other in a hug.

Skye deflated back onto the couch, as if all the tension was finally draining out of him.

Even Kato looked happy. And he was never happy for anyone but himself.

Aimee clenched her fists, the tightness in her throat threatening to choke her. There were too many emotions clawing at her chest, fighting for space. And none of them made sense.

Grief. Fury. Loss .

The traitorous scrape of that something unnamable that edged too close to relief.

Everyone else had already decided. The prodigal was home.

Everyone else had gotten what they wanted. So, why did she still hurt?

Because it wasn’t Cori. It was Talya. Maybe they’d been the same once, but not anymore.

Cori never would’ve left these people. She wouldn’t have thrown them away for any reason, no matter how eager they all seemed to be to welcome her back.

Aimee stood. The room didn’t need her anymore. As the others crowded around Aiden, peppering him with questions, she slipped towards the door.

No one noticed. No one stopped her. Of course, they didn’t. Where Talya existed, nothing else mattered.

“Tell me one thing,” Kato said.

Aimee blinked—just once—then turned. He barely counted, so her point still stood.

He leaned lazily against the mantle, warming his backside by the fire. She arched an expectant brow.

“Did you cheat?” he asked.

She huffed. Kato was a shadow mage. The fact that he still had to ask meant she was doing at least one thing right.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

Aimee shook her head. “Nothing.”

Then she left.