The tension in Callita’s sitting room was thick, wrapping around them like the city’s ever-present mist. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering golden light over the heavy curtains, the polished wooden furniture, and the map of Milana sprawled across the table between them.

  No one was looking at the map. All eyes were fixed on Callista.

  “We need proof,” she said, voice low and certain. “If we lack something undeniable, Adela and Onesta will keep dismissing us. And if we push too hard without it—”

  Brenna exhaled sharply. “They’ll do more than just dismiss us.”

  “They’ll bury us,” Julia muttered.

  Callista nodded grimly. “Which means we need to be smarter than them. If we are right about Evadne— if she is the one feeding this conspiracy— then we have to catch her in the act.”

  Melissa leaned back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head. “And how do you suggest we do that? Ask her nicely if she’s scheming behind their backs? Maybe get her to monologue a little?”

  Brandon shot her a flat look. “I hate that you say things like that as a joke when they actually happen.”

  Melissa grinned. “What can I say? People love a dramatic reveal.”

  Annemarie, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. “We need to know the identity of the man she was meeting with. If she’s taking orders from someone, that’s our way in.”

  Julia nodded. “Which means we need two things: evidence of Evadne’s betrayal, and the identity of her contact.”

  Melissa scoffed. “Great. Just the two hardest things possible to get our hands on. Love that for us.”

  Callista ignored her. “Which is why we are going to do something very stupid.”

  Melissa grinned. “Now that I love.”

  Brandon exhaled heavily. “I’m already regretting this.”

  Callista tapped a finger against the table. “We need to divide and conquer. Annemarie, Brandon, and I will meet with Evadne here. She will expect that. We will keep her occupied.”

  Julia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Which gives Melissa time to break into her quarters.”

  Melissa sat up, clearly delighted. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  Brandon frowned. “You realize if you’re caught, she won’t just politely ask you to leave.”

  Melissa shrugged. “I dunno, she might. I think I could charm her.”

  Brenna snorted. “You have five minutes of charm before you start getting political.”

  “Five minutes is plenty of time.”

  Julia sighed, but there was a small smile on her lips. “I’ll stand guard. If we hear anything, we’ll get you out.”

  Brenna nodded. “I’ll be there, too. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve if we need a distraction.”

  Callista leaned forward. “Evadne is careful. If she is hiding something important, she will not keep it in plain sight. Look for locked drawers, hidden compartments— anything that seems out of place.”

  Melissa mock-saluted. “You’ve got it, boss.”

  Brandon ran a hand down his face. “This is a terrible plan.”

  Callista arched a brow. “Do you have a better one?”

  “No.”

  “Then let us get to work.”

  A final, weighted silence settled over the room. The plan was risky— reckless, even— but they had no choice.

  They stood, moving with the tense efficiency of people preparing for battle.

  And as they did, Gorgoloth let out a quiet, satisfied click, shifting on his many legs as if he knew things were about to get interesting.

  Evadne Sharmure did not look like a woman who was used to being summoned.

  But when she arrived in Callista’s sitting room, she was the picture of composure— tall, graceful, and wearing the faintest trace of a smirk, as though amused that they had called upon her at all.

  “Summoning me?” she murmured, stepping inside and glancing between them. “I must admit, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

  Callista sat in the high-backed chair near the window, legs crossed, chin lifted— every inch the noblewoman she had been raised to be. Brandon stood stiffly beside her, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. Annemarie, however, played her part perfectly— standing near the tea tray, hands folded loosely, projecting an air of casual curiosity rather than suspicion.

  Evadne’s eyes flicked toward Callista. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  It was Annemarie who answered. “Curiosity, mostly.” She turned, offering Evadne a small, sheepish smile. “I know you know who we are— at least, who I am. But I figured we should just put it all out there.”

  Evadne arched a brow, intrigued. “Go on.”

  Annemarie poured herself a cup of tea, deliberately casual. “I’m not from here.”

  Evadne chuckled. “Yes, I gathered.”

  “I mean, really not from here.” She gestured vaguely between herself and Brandon. “We’re from another world. Earth.”

  Evadne tilted her head, assessing her carefully.

  Annemarie took a slow sip of tea before continuing. “You’ve probably figured that out already, though. And you definitely know Cal— Lady Byfox’s situation is... complicated.” She shot the duchess a small, wry smile, as if they were barely acquaintances forced into the same room.

  Callista played along, offering nothing but a cool, indifferent nod.

  Annemarie set her tea down, adopting a slightly sheepish expression. “So, I’m trying to learn more about this world. And I heard that you’re something called a— what was it? A Soul Stealer.”

  Evadne’s smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes flickered with amusement. “Is that so?”

  Annemarie nodded, still playing her part. “Yeah. And honestly? I’m curious. I mean, we have no magic where I come from, so all of this is completely new to me.” She gestured vaguely. “What is Eldramoria, really?”

  Evadne’s gaze flicked toward Callista. “You needn’t ask me. Your companion can certainly answer that.”

  Callista barely looked at her. “We are not companions.”

  Evadne’s smile widened.

  Annemarie sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “We don’t really get along,” she admitted, glancing toward Callista with a look of mild exasperation. “We’ve just... been thrown into this Mirrorwood mess together.”

  Callista exhaled sharply, as if barely tolerating the conversation. “Unfortunately.”

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  Evadne let out a low hum of interest. “How fascinating.”

  Annemarie gave her a slightly conspiratorial smile, leaning in. “So? Are the rumors true? About Soul Stealers?”

  Evadne chuckled. “There are many rumors, I assure you.”

  Brandon, who had remained silent up to this point, suddenly felt her gaze flick toward him.

  “And what of you?” she mused, her voice light, almost playful. “You’ve been so quiet, Brandon.”

  His jaw clenched.

  Evadne’s smile sharpened. “You weren’t quite so silent yesterday.”

  Annemarie huffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, that?” She let out a small, forced laugh. “Look, you have to understand— when you come from literally another world, you get a little... paranoid.” She shook her head, sighing. “We’ve all been on edge, jumping at shadows. Sometimes we think we hear things, see things that aren’t really there.”

  Evadne’s smirk didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something colder beneath it.

  Annemarie shrugged. “But mistakes are mistakes. And we can all move on, right?”

  For a long moment, Evadne said nothing. Then— “Of course.”

  Brandon inhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral.

  Evadne turned her attention back to Annemarie. “Eldramoria,” she mused, as if considering where to begin. “It is... a gift. A curse, some would say, though I do not consider it such.”

  She folded her hands in her lap, her expression serene. “Soul Stealers are attuned to life itself Some of us sense presence— the weight of other people’s existence, the way a room feels when it is occupied versus when it is empty. Others sense emotion— fear, joy, anger, despair. Some can manipulate those emotions, shifting them ever so slightly.”

  Her gaze flicked toward Callista, just for a second, before she continued.

  “And then, of course...” Evadne smiled faintly. “There are those of us who can do more.”

  Annemarie tilted her head. “More?”

  Evadne’s fingers tapped lightly against the porcelain of her teacup. “You’ve heard the term Soul Stealer, yes?”

  Annemarie nodded slowly.

  Evadne’s smile was unreadable. “It is not entirely wrong.”

  Silence.

  Callista shifted slightly in her seat, the movement small, deliberate. “You mean to tell us,” she said, her tone cool and indifferent, “that some of your kind can actually steal souls?”

  Evadne chuckled softly. “Not quite so dramatically, no.” She lifted her cup, taking a slow sip before setting it down again. “But there are... ways to pull from others. To take just a little— a fragment of life, a whisper of strength.

  Brandon’s hands curled into fists.

  Evadne glanced at him again, her amusement not entirely hidden. “Does that frighten you?”

  Brandon said nothing.

  Annemarie leaned forward slightly, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “That’s... fascinating.”

  Evadne’s lips curved. “Isn’t it?”

  Annemarie let out a short, breathy laugh. “You must be very popular in court.”

  “Oh,” Evadne murmured, her smirk widening. “You have no idea.”

  Callista exhaled, her gaze shifting toward the window, as if already bored of the conversation. “Is that all?”

  Evadne studied her for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “I suppose it is.”

  She rose smoothly from her seat. “It has been a pleasure, truly. I do hope we continue these little... chats.”

  Brandon didn’t move, didn’t breathe, until she reached the door.

  Annemarie gave her an easy smile. “Absolutely.”

  Callista didn’t bother standing.

  The moment Evadne was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, the three of them sat in silence, waiting until her footsteps faded completely.

  Then—

  Brandon exhaled sharply, tension coiling out of his body. “That was—”

  “Too easy,” Callista muttered.

  Annemarie exhaled. “She knows we’re playing her.”

  Callista’s eyes darkened. “And she is definitely playing us back.”

  Melissa was good at breaking into places.

  It was a skill she had picked up long before she ever set foot in Aleria— sneaking out of her house as a teenager, slipping into bars she wasn’t old enough for, testing doors just to see if they were locked.

  Evadne’s quarters were definitely locked.

  Unfortunately for her, Melissa had never met a lock she couldn’t pick.

  Outside, Gorgoloth was doing his part, scuttling through the halls like the world’s most horrifying court jester, ribbons fluttering as he clicked his mandibles loudly enough to draw the attention of the posted guards.

  A giant spider? In the palace? Unthinkable.

  Melissa smirked to herself as she pressed her ear to the door, listening as the heavy footsteps of the guards faded down the corridor. Perfect.

  She slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her, and immediately took in the space.

  Evadne’s rooms were exactly as she had expected— dark, elegant, deliberate. Every piece of furniture had been chosen with precision, the bookshelves stacked with carefully curated tomes, the writing desk immaculate except for a single, neatly arranged stack of correspondence.

  Melissa moved quickly. She had minutes at best.

  She sifted through the papers first, flipping through the letters with practiced efficiency. Her eyes skimmed the signatures— most were meaningless, just the usual palace dealings. But one—

  Lord K

  She frowned, flipping to another page. Lord K again, the handwriting sharp and controlled, the words calculated. Whoever this was, they were important. And Evadne had been receiving a lot of letters from them.

  Melissa’s stomach twisted as she spotted another mark at the bottom of a missive— a sigil she didn’t recognize, but one that felt wrong.

  She shoved it in her coat. They could analyze it later.

  Her search led her to the far wall, where she noticed something odd.

  The bookshelves. They were too even, too perfectly arranged.

  Melissa pressed a hand against the wood, feeling for any hidden catches and— click.

  The section of the wall shifted.

  Melissa’s breath hitched as she pushed it open, revealing a narrow, hidden passageway leading into another chamber. She stepped inside cautiously, eyes adjusting to the dim candlelight.

  A bed.

  An ornate vanity.

  A bloodred dress draped over the back of a chair.

  Melissa’s blood ran cold. That was Adela Rummi’s dress. This wasn’t just any bedchamber.

  Holy shit.

  Melissa didn’t waste time. She turned, slipping back through the passageway and closing it behind her as quietly as possible. She had everything she needed. Evidence. Real evidence.

  She was about to leave when she heard it— voices. Outside the door.

  And then, a muffled noise.

  Melissa stilled. Something was wrong.

  She tightened her grip on her dagger, adjusted her stance, and moved toward the door.

  One breath. Two.

  Then, she shoved it open. And the scene before her made her stomach plummet.

  Brenna was frozen, her body rigid and unblinking, her eyes wide with magic-fueled paralysis. Julia was being held at knifepoint.

  A man— tall, dressed in dark clothes, his hood pulled low— had her pinned against the stone wall, the blade pressed dangerously against her throat. “It’s such a shame,” the man was murmuring, his voice smooth and taunting. “You came all this way, and you still can’t come to terms with it.” He tilted his head, his knife pressing just a little harder. A bead of blood ran down Julia’s throat. “Your father died for nothing, little girl. And now you—”

  Melissa didn’t give him time to finish. She lunged, and the dagger slammed into his back, slipping between his ribs.

  The man let out a choked sound, his grip loosening. Brenna gasped, the magic locking her in place suddenly breaking—

  And then the man collapsed.

  For a long moment, there was only silence.

  The weight of it pressed down on them, thick and suffocating, as the man’s body crumpled to the floor. The dim torchlight flickered against the dark stain spreading beneath him, the metallic scent of blood curling into the air. And then—

  “What the fuck, Melissa?”

  Melissa barely had time to react before Julia shoved her, hard enough to make her stumble back a step. She blinked, still catching her breath. “...what?”

  Julia’s eyes blazed, her voice sharp with anger and something dangerously close to grief. “He could have told me something! About my father! About everything! And you just—” She gestured wildly at the body between them. “—killed him?”

  Melissa opened her mouth, then closed it, struggling for words she didn’t have.

  Brenna, still shaking off the last remnants of paralysis, groaned from where she was bracing herself against the wall. “Okay, let’s maybe save the screaming until we’re not standing over a corpse in the middle of the hallway.”

  Julia’s glare snapped toward her, but she was too furious, too heartbroken, to argue. Her hands curled into fists at her sides before she whirled on her heel, storming off down the corridor without another word. Her footsteps echoed against the stone, each one heavy with rage.

  Melissa exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. “I... I should probably go after her.”

  Brenna, still unsteady but recovering, shook her head. “She’ll need time.” She nudged the dead man’s boot with her own. “We need to take care of this.”

  Melissa sighed, crouching beside the body. The man’s hood had slipped back, revealing dark hair, sharp features, and an expression frozen in something between shock and pain. His blood was already pooling, seeping into the cracks of the stone floor.

  She muttered a curse under her breath, wiped her dagger clean on his cloak, and then— without ceremony— hauled him up and over her shoulder with a grunt. “Shall we make a scene?” she asked dryly.

  Brenna arched a brow, still catching her breath. “I think we already did.”

  Melissa smirked. “Then let’s make it worthwhile.”