Page 94 of Hellbound

“You’re not who you’re pretending to be.” Danika’s healthy hand clenched.

Ksenia proffered no argument and began digging in her pack. She produced a sugar twist, wrapped in wax paper, and offered it to her wary sister. “You’re right.”

Danika’s eyes brightened, and she reached out before faltering. “What is this for?”

“It’s your favorite. I couldn’t go back to Brannfels, but this is the closest I could do.”

Danika cautiously accepted it, head tilted. “How do you know that?”

Ksenia opened her palm.

In it was a small wooden box. Danika’s eyes widened, her jaw slack.

Wordlessly, she reached for it, caressing the top before popping it open to reveal an old button collection from their late mother’s sewing box. As a child, she’d become obsessed with finding new and lost ones to add to it. Instead of spending her meager allowance on sweets, she’d opt for unique buttons instead.

“This too.” A dark blue leather-bound notebook appeared in Ksenia’s hands, its pages worn and dog-eared with Danika’s entries over the years.

Danika’s hands shook as she gathered her diary. “I—I don’t understand what’s happening. How did you know that hand signal—why did you ask me to lie? Why are you following me—” Her questions stoppered in her throat.

She blinked, her eyes glassy, and swallowed hard. Ksenia’s fierce gaze held her, as long as she would allow it.

Don’t you recognize me? Ksenia couldn’t bring the words to her lips. She needed to be seen by her sister to bring back any shred of her humanity.

A beat passed.

Two.

Danika’s eyes rimmed with tears, creasing upward with her pained smile. “Gods. That fucking look in your eyes is unmistakable.”

Ksenia’s laugh punched out of her lungs, and a tear trickled from her eye. “Since when do you curse?”

“Since always. You just don’t notice because you’re worse.” Danika rushed forward, sweeping her into a fierce hug and crushing the twist between them. Ksenia barely caught the box of buttons and diary before they clattered to the floor.

Every day. Every day since her resurrection, she had been forced to perform with a different face, body, and name. And now, finally, the most important person to her recognized her and validated that she had existed before, existed now, and was still the same person.

Her death meant something, and her life meant something.

Ksenia buried her face into Danika’s shoulder, savoring the feeling of being known.

“How. What—?” Danika’s hands came to Ksenia’s face, turning it every which way.

“Later.” Her eyes darted down the hallway at an approaching castle guard, his metal armor plates clinking. “It’s not safe here.”

Danika nodded, smoothing the bandana on her head with her fingers.

“Let’s meet elsewhere.”

“The armory?” Danika suggested. “I have weapons to transfer tonight.”

Ksenia nodded quickly.

“Stay sharp.” Ksenia gave Danika’s hand a comforting, tight squeeze.

“Stay safe.” Danika’s eyes glistened.

Back in the manor, a sparring session was underway.

Varka’s blade traced smooth, perfect arcs through the air, stressing Ksenia’s defenses.