The cavern had grown warmer from the fire, enough that I wasnât worried about hypothermia anymore. Our clothes hung near the flames, still damp but getting there. Another few hours and weâd be presentable again.
Assuming the Arborist gave us a few hours.
I reached for the knife sheâd grabbed from the pedestal, still lying where it had fallen after weâd used it to unlock the doorway. The blade caught the firelight, those silver swirls moving like they were alive. The heartwood of the First Tree, forged into a weapon specifically to kill the thing that had imprisoned it for millennia.
Poetic justice had a certain appeal.
"You should be sleeping."
Her voice startled me. I looked down to find her eyes open, watching me with that analytical gaze that seemed to see more than I wanted her to.
"Could say the same about you, Princess."
"I thought we established you werenât supposed to call me that." She didnât move from where sheâd settled against my side, just shifted slightly to get more comfortable.
"You tell me what I should call you instead, then."
She considered this for longer than the question warranted. "Cel. Just Cel."
"That what Monica calls you?"
"Sometimes. When weâre alone and she forgets that Iâm supposed to be..." She trailed off, searching for the word.
"A walking political asset?"
Her lips twitched. "Something like that."
We fell quiet again, but it wasnât the awkward silence from before. This one felt different. Easier.
"Can I ask you something?" Her voice came out softer than usual. "And I want an honest answer, not whatever tactical response youâve calculated will move me in the direction you want."
I tensed despite myself. The Liarâs Brooch was currently drying with my pants across the cavern, which meant I had nothing to warn me if my bullshit detector was about to go off.
"Shoot."
"Why did you really ask for me to be transferred to Onyx?" She propped herself up on one elbow to look at me properly. "And donât tell me it was just about Noahâs sleep schedule."
I couldâve lied. Shouldâve lied. Told her some pretty story about seeing her potential or wanting to save her from Julianâs incompetent leadership.
Instead, I found myself telling her a version of the truth.
"Your sister erased my father from history," I said, watching the purple flames instead of her face. "Scrubbed his name from every university record, classified his research, made him disappear so thoroughly that even his own family pretended not to know my mother. The VHC destroyed everything he worked for, and when he vanished, they made sure nobody could ask why."
Celesteâs breath caught. "You think Seraphinaâ"
"I donât think. I know." I met her eyes. "The question is whether your sister ordered it or just covered it up after the fact. Either way, sheâs got answers I need, and youâre my best shot at getting close enough to find them."
She shouldâve pulled away. Shouldâve gotten angry or defensive, shouldâve reminded me that her sister was the President of the VHC and I was just some upstart Zero playing at being dangerous.
Instead, she stayed exactly where she was, her hand still resting on my chest, right over my heart.
"So thatâs what I am to you," she said quietly. "A key to unlock your investigation."
"Thatâs what you were supposed to be." I grabbed her wrist, keeping her hand pressed against me. "But somewhere between watching you face down that A-Rank monster with nothing but ice and guts, and listening to you admit you donât have actual friends, you stopped being just a tactical asset."
"What am I now, then?"
"Complicated."
She laughed, the sound bitter and bright all at once. "Thatâs the second time youâve called me that."
"Itâs the truth." I released her wrist but she didnât pull away. "Youâre Seraphinaâs sister, which means youâre politically radioactive. Youâre also powerful enough that people will always want to use you. And somewhere underneath all that programming and etiquette training, thereâs a girl who just wants to pick her own path for once in her goddamn life."
"You see all that from a few conversations?"
"Iâm good at reading people. Part of the package."
"What package would that be?"
"The one that comes with being raised by a single mother in the worst part of the city," I said, the lie flowing smooth as silk. "You learn real fast whoâs genuine and whoâs just looking for an angle. Survival skill."
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers absently tracing patterns against my chest. The touch was light, almost unconscious, but it sent heat curling through my stomach that had nothing to do with the fire.
"I should hate you," she said finally. "Youâre using me to get to my sister. You manipulate everyone around you. Iâve watched you play Emi and Skylar and even Natalia like instruments, getting exactly what you want from each of them."
"But you donât hate me."
"No." Her hand stilled. "I donât. I should, but I donât. And that terrifies me more than the Arborist or the Harvesters or any of this nightmare weâre trapped in."
I cupped her face, tilting it up toward mine. "You want to know why?"
"Enlighten me."
"Because Iâm the first person whoâs ever been honest with you about wanting something. Everyone else hides it behind pretty words and political games. Your sister, the VHC, every boy your familyâs tried to arrange you withâthey all want to use you, theyâre just better at pretending they donât."
Her eyes searched mine. "And youâre not pretending."
"Never have. Never will." I let my thumb brush across her cheekbone. "I need you to get to the truth about my father. But I also meant what I said earlier. Youâre not what I expected. Youâre real, Cel. And thatâs rarer than S-Rank potential in this fucked-up world we live in."
She leaned into my touch, just slightly. "Youâre still using me."
"Yeah. But at least you know it going in." I dropped my hand. "You want me to stop? Say the word. Iâll figure out another way to get my answers. Wonât bother you again."
"I didnât say I wanted you to stop."