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S ybil was Kalfr’s … mate?!

No. No . It wasn’t possible, there was no realm in which this made sense, and Daisy blankly stared between Kalfr and Sybil , while her heartbeat wailed in her ears. Impossible . Impossible .

“It’s so lovely to meet you,” Sybil said, striding toward Daisy with her hand outstretched, and a bright smile on her face. “ I’m Margaret , and Kalfr and I only met the other night. But ” — she angled her smile up toward Kalfr beside her — “we had an instant connection, didn’t we, love?”

Margaret. Margaret ?! Daisy was one breath away from shouting, exploding, demanding what the fuck Sybil was playing at, what the hell she was doing — but then Daisy’s eyes caught on Kalfr’s face. On the strange stubborn set to his mouth, the intent unmistakable look in his eyes. The look that might have been… longing .

Kalfr… wanted Sybil ? He wanted her as his mate ?

“But what about — your son?” Daisy’s sharp voice demanded toward Kalfr , in a horribly invasive question that was still preferable to the rest of the mess now screaming through her skull. “ And your weaver ex? I thought you wanted to reconcile with her!”

The pain flashed bright and vivid through Kalfr’s eyes, while beside him, Sybil patted his arm, and shot a reassuring smile up toward him. “ Well , it’s been a long time now, hasn’t it?” she said bracingly. “ At some point, you just need to accept your lot in life, and move on.”

Kalfr didn’t even argue this statement, aiming a wan little smile back down toward Sybil’s face. While Daisy kept staring between them, her thoughts screaming, her heartbeat galloping in her chest. What the hell. What the fuck .

And — wait. Why in the gods’ names wasn’t Sybil calling out Daisy , too? She should be bringing up their meeting back in the apartment, demanding why Lew’s illustrator was here at Orc Mountain , and then sending word off so Lew could call his horrid regiment at once…

But Sybil was smiling back at Daisy again, still without even a trace of recognition in her eyes — and too late, Daisy shot a brief glance down her own body. Down at her leather trousers and bare midriff — still with that one fresh red line of Filak’s vow, oh gods — and suddenly her gold jewelry felt very distinct, too, heavy against her skin. Her cuff, her ring, the kraga around her neck.

Oh. Of course Sybil didn’t recognize her, or remember her. Daisy hadn’t actually introduced herself by name just now, and Kalfr hadn’t yet used her name either, right? And maybe most crucial of all, Daisy had only ever been an unremarkable illustrator to Sybil , a mild curiosity at best, rather than a beautiful threatening enemy who’d been fucking her partner in her bed.

That awareness scraped at something important in the back of Daisy’s thoughts — an enemy, a threat — and somehow, somehow, she bit back all the shouts still jostling in her throat, and took a deep, shaky breath. “ Right , of course,” she said, in a voice not at all her own. “ I wish you both — all the best.”

And before she could betray anything else, she whirled off, and staggered into the trees. Not looking, not thinking, but just needing to escape, needing to run, needing to shove it all away and forget and forget and forget…

But then, there, just up ahead, was — a figure. A figure that might have been death itself, tall and looming and cloaked in black. And for a flaring terrifying breath, Daisy thought it was Lew’s regiment somehow, they’d gotten in, they would drag her back to Lew and trap her forever —

When the figure… held something out. Something so familiar it clanged through Daisy’s screaming brain, choked tight around her chest.

Her sketchbook.

She stared at it, and then up at the — oh. That harsh angular face, its shadows even deeper beneath its heavy cloak. Or rather, what appeared to be multiple cloaks, draped over every part of his pale body.

It was Filak .