Not in layers of fake makeup.
And definitely not in a room like this—where every corner screams wealth and ease.
Even in my father’s mansion, I only ever passed through the grand halls. I wasn’tmeantto live in them.
I always went straight back to the workers’ quarters with Diana after the Konfetki. That was the only place we were allowed toexist.
I press a hand over my chest, just to feel something solid. Something real.
That’s when I hear it, soft voices on the other side of the glass.
“You didn’t just use your powers on her…” Chris’s voice. Sharp. Accusing.
A pause.
“Shhh!” Kayla hisses.
Then silence.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
Powers?
My mind scrambles, replaying the moment Kayla touched me. The tears. The shift in the air. The way my body reacted like it was touched by electric shock wearing a silk glove.
I step back from the mirror, suddenly too hyper-aware of everything around me—this too-soft room, that glass wall, the luxurious clothes in my arms, and the fact that I have no idea what kind of house I’ve walked into.
Malec
“What did you do to it?”
I pick up the small pendant Queen Marcella gave me, right from where Mariano dropped it near the office door. It’s pulsing now—brighter, steadier. Stronger.
I glance around.
Everyone—Mariano, Mom, Dad—is staring at the glow in my palm, just as confused as I am.
I shove it into my pocket before anyone says anything. I hope it’s not damaged.
I promised Queen Marcella I’d find her daughter. The thought gnaws at me, relentless and sharp, reminding me of how little we actually know.
Out here on land, we don’t even have the smallest lead. Nothing to hold onto. Just shadows and the gnawing ache of uncertainty.
“I’m getting tired of this weird magic shit…” Mariano sighs, flopping down on the couch next to my father’s desk. “It’s been over twenty years, and there’salwayssomething new.”
“If you’re tired, imagine what I deal with,” I mutter, then shift my attention to Mom.
There it is again—that same feeling.
She’s hiding something.
“Mom, what are you not—”
“Malec,” Dad cuts in, stepping out from behind his desk and leaning against the front. “What about Fedor’s daughter? Did you get anything out of her?”
It takes me a few seconds to adjust to the sudden shift.
“I feel like she hates her father as much as we do,” I say with a smirk. “Maybe even more. But something’s off about her. I think… she’s sick.”
