Page 32

Chapter 31

Selestina

T he training grounds are full of the sounds of sparring students, quick breaths, and the steady, low voice of Professor Karr as he watches his trainees with a hawk-like intensity.

I sit on a mat near the edge, stretching my legs, trying to shake off the ache of yesterday’s drills, though the soreness clings stubbornly to my muscles. Next to me, Nasarea sits in silence, a tension around her that feels strange, almost out of place.

I glance across the room and meet Nazriel’s gaze. He’s seated across the training area, his back straight, his focus pinned to Nasarea with concern.

Evaline, as always, is by his side, practically pawing at him, tracing her fingers up his arm, leaning in close, her voice a constant murmur. Yet Nazriel doesn’t seem to notice her, his gaze is fixed on Nasarea, and then to me.

I roll my eyes at him, a silent message to cut it out, to stop staring like some obsessive puppy. He raises a single brow, his lips twitching with a hint of amusement, but he doesn’t look away. I huff, forcing myself to turn my attention back to Nasarea, her silence drawing me in more than Nazriel’s unyielding stare.

I watch her carefully. Nasarea is usually sharp, her words edged with sarcasm, but today there’s a restraint in her, an invisible weight pressing her down. She moves stiffly, her gaze fixed on the floor as she stretches, her shoulders slumped, her face set in an expression that’s a little too distant.

“Something’s wrong,” I say softly, turning toward her. Concern in my eyes.

She snaps her head up, her dark eyes narrowing, defensive and her voice sharp. “Nothing’s wrong.” She bites out. “Don’t act like you know everything about me now that we are friends .”

I watch her, unfazed by her prickly tone. There’s something deeper here, something pulling at her, and for once, her mask of cold indifference isn’t enough to hide it. “Maybe not,” I murmur, lowering my voice so the others can’t hear, “but I know enough to see when something’s wrong. We may have only been roommates for a couple of months, but I know you well enough to see that today’s different. You’re not yourself.”

For a moment, her eyes flash with irritation, her lips pressed tight, but then she sighs long, as though the breath itself is weighted. Her gaze shifts, softening just a fraction, and she looks away, her hands clenching and unclenching. “It’s the one year anniversary,” she says finally, her voice so low I almost miss it. “Of my mother’s death.”

I blink, trying to process it. “I… I’m sorry, Nasarea.” The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I can offer in the face of such raw grief and terrible friendship skills. I feel like such an asshole. Should I pat her shoulder? No. No, that’s probably weird .

She gives a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly, and for the first time today, she meets my gaze. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice softer, carrying an edge of something vulnerable, something tender. “She was… important, obviously. To my brother and me.”

“I didn’t realize,” I say quietly, struggling to reconcile the fierce, unbreakable Nasarea I know with the girl who sits here now, subdued, carrying a loss that’s clearly etched into her. “I didn’t know she was… gone.”

My gaze trails back to Nazriel. That infuriating man. That utterly hot and infuriating man. He also lost his mom one year ago. He continues to stare at me with such a raw intensity that I feel like I can see right through the asshole persona. He’s hurting too. And he is only trying to protect his sister from their father. I don’t know what it’s like to care so deeply for someone like that, but I understand feeling like you have no choice. That someone else pulls the puppet strings. That you’re just another pawn in this game of chess.

I break the gaze and look back at Nasarea.

She hesitates, her jaw tightening, as if what she’s about to say is a secret held close. “She was murdered, actually. By… the Shadow Reaper.”

The world stops.

I feel myself go perfectly still, my mind racing, trying to absorb the enormity of her confession.

That can’t be right.

It just… it doesn’t make sense.

I know every single face I’ve taken, every soul claimed under Alexander’s orders, and the Reina of Atlacoya was not one of them. The faces, the memories, they’re burned into me. None of them belong to her mother. I have never in my life, in all my years of missions, had to work as hard as I am working to not break my mask.

My voice comes out in a whisper, disbelief thick in my throat. “How… how do you know that?”

Nasarea shrugs, her face hardening again, though a shadow of pain lingers in her eyes. “That’s what Father told me,” she says, her voice hollow, tinged with bitterness. “He told Nazriel and me after it happened. Told us the Shadow Reaper killed her. That’s all I know.”

My mind reels. How did I not know she was dead? Why wouldn’t Alexander have told me? Or did he know all along and chose to keep it from me? I push the questions down, though they thrash beneath the surface, a quiet storm building within me.

Nasarea’s gaze softens a little as she looks away, her hands resting on her knees, her fingers twisting nervously, and I see a side of her I hadn’t understood until now. A girl caught between a kingdom’s secrets and her own grief. The fierce mask she wears, the cold indifference, all of it feels like a thin layer now, something barely covering the pain she’s kept hidden.

I swallow, searching for something to say, a way to lift even a fraction of the weight she carries.

“Blueberry muffins,” she whispers, so soft, I barely hear her.

“What?” I say.

A smile tugs at her lips, barely there. “They were her favorite,” she says quietly. “My mother… she’d have blueberry muffins every year on her birthday, instead of cake. Said it made her feel free, like a little rebellion against all the royal expectations.”

My heart twists, a strange warmth blooming in my chest as I watch her, feeling a closeness I hadn’t expected. “ Why don’t we get some blueberry muffins from the dining hall?” I suggest, keeping my voice soft, steady. “Celebrate her life together, in her honor.”

Nasarea’s eyes widen, surprise crossing her features. She opens her mouth as if to respond, then closes it, her expression shifting into something quieter, more thoughtful. For a moment, she just looks at me, searching my face, as if trying to read my intentions.

After a moment, she nods, a small, hesitant motion, a quiet acceptance that feels like the beginnings of trust. “Yeah,” she says, her voice low, barely a whisper. “I think… she’d like that.”

She smiles, and I feel a warmth in my chest, an unexpected connection that bridges the space between us.

Professor Karr’s voice cuts through the air, calling us to our feet, snapping us back to reality. I rise, stretching out my limbs, but my mind is somewhere else, wrapped up in Nasarea’s revelation, in the quiet sorrow she’s shared. As I glance over at her one last time, I see her draw herself up, straightening her back, her mask slipping into place once again.

She’s my mirror. While I don’t know grief like she knows, I understand what’s at stake. I nod to myself. A silent declaration.

I will do everything in my power to make sure that I never lose Nasarea as my friend.

All I can think about is that Nasarea can never, under any circumstances, discover my true identity. She can never know that I am the Shadow Reaper. Even though I know I didn’t take her mother’s life, the fragile bond we’re beginning to build, the friendship I’m starting to value more than I’d like to admit, would shatter in an instant if she knew the truth. It would slip right through my fingers, lost forever, even though it just began.