"The things we think the most difficult, so often would have come quite easily...," she said, " to people who aren't here anymore."
Annabella let the words settle between them.
Callen watched her, puzzled. There was clearly something behind the answer, something she had no intention of explaining.
"Annabella…"He paused, then corrected himself. "I mean—Your Grace?"
She glanced back.
It surprised her how intimately he had said her name.
A year ago, Callen could barely hold a conversation with her without stumbling over himself. Now he said Annabella as though the name belonged comfortably in his mouth—as though he had somehow earned the right to use it.
Interesting.
"If I dare ask…" Callen hesitated, then gave her a faint smile. "What is the young master's name? I seem to have forgotten."
Annabella gave him a slow sideways look.
"Your new friend should tell you himself."
Callen let out a quiet laugh.
"Of course."
He glanced toward the path where the boy had disappeared.
Annabella turned to leave.
She had taken only a few steps when she spoke again.
"Come for the banquet in three weeks."
Callen looked up. "Banquet?"
"For the young master's fifth birthday and naming ceremony."
That caught him.
A flicker crossed his face.
Annabella stopped.
Why would the child's age affect him that much?
She turned slightly, watching him from the corner of her eye.
"I am sure he will be delighted to see you."
Callen smiled. "I hope so."
"He seems particularly fond of you. That is unlike him"
Callen's expression tightened for the briefest moment.
Annabella noticed.
There had been something almost panicked in him earlier, as though their little encounter had gone somewhere he hadn't expected.
Now he shrugged.
"Understandable,"he said quickly. "Toddlers only love their mothers."
Annabella's eyebrow rose.
Then she smiled.
A small, amused curve of her lips.
Touché.
He had saved himself rather neatly.
"I suppose you're right."
Callen smiled, apparently relieved.
Annabella turned away again.
"Oh—and bring Gabrielle."
Callen raised an eyebrow.
"Both of us?"
"Of course."Annabella looked back at him. "She is your bride-to-be. I would never dream of keeping you apart."
There was something almost wickedly smooth about the way she said it.
Callen gave a small laugh.
"You make it sound as though I'm some scandalous man that needs to be watched."
"Are you?"
His smile faltered for half a second.
Annabella's eyes gleamed.
Then she continued walking.
"It is a birthday banquet, Callen. Try to act a little more naturally than you did today."
"I wasn't acting suspicious."
"No?"
She glanced over her shoulder.
"That makes the whole thing so much more worth my attention."
Callen shook his head, trying too hard to look nonchalant.
Annabella held his gaze for another beat before turning away.
"Good night, Counsellor."
The way she said it was almost like a challenge.
Almost.
He watched her go looking more troubled now.
And once she was out of his sight, Annabella's smile disappeared from her face.
She had seen it too many strange reactions from Callen to dismiss.
Annabella's eyes narrowed slightly as the possibilities began arranging themselves in her mind.
Something is different about you, Callen.
And she intended to find out what.
Callen returned to Gabrielle in time for dinner.
As expected, they were kept apart from most of the others.
Only a handful of people approached them directly—those few who were genuine enough not to care about the whispers. Everyone else kept their distance, their conversations dying whenever Callen or Gabrielle came near. Some looked away. Others watched from across the room with poorly concealed suspicion.
Neither of them commented on it.
On the journey back, Gabrielle became unusually quiet.
She sat opposite Callen, one hand resting loosely against the carriage window, her gaze fixed on the darkness outside. She had not said a word since they left.
Callen wasn't much different.
He sat with his arms folded, staring ahead, his thoughts clearly somewhere else.
By the time they reached his estate, neither had spoken.
The carriage slowed.
Then the driver heard a faint signal from Callen.
Without warning, he pulled the reins and took a sharp turn off the main road.
The carriage disappeared between the trees.
Branches scraped softly against the sides as the path narrowed. Then the forest changed.
Fog began gathering between the trunks.
Not ordinary fog.
Magic.
It curled around the carriage in thick, pale layers, swallowing the road behind them until there was nothing to see but trees. Even the sound of the outside world seemed to disappear.
They went deeper.
Then, just as suddenly, the trees opened.
A camp appeared in the clearing.
Tents stretched across the woodland floor, fires burned between them, and dozens of men and women moved through the camp. Some were training. Others sat around fires talking and laughing. A few were sparring near the edge of the clearing.
The moment Gabrielle stepped out of the carriage, the atmosphere changed.
People began cheering.
Applause broke out across the camp.
Gabrielle smiled.
She moved through them, greeting people one by one, accepting embraces and congratulations, occasionally laughing at something someone said.
Callen barely acknowledged any of it.
He walked straight toward the largest tent at the centre of the camp.
Inside, it was quiet.
He sat down on a wooden chair.
For several seconds, he simply stared at the floor.
Then he tied his hands to the chair.
His breathing slowed.
His head dipped.
And he fell asleep.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Callen's shadow moved.
It stretched across the floor.
Something began forming inside it.
First came the feet.
Then the legs.
The shape slowly climbed upward, building itself from darkness—limbs, torso with small breasts, shoulders, neck.
A figure emerged as though the shadow were giving birth to a body.
It was taller than Callen.
Broader through the shoulders.
Its arms and legs were stronger, built for violence rather than elegance.
The figure stood completely still.
Then its eyes opened.
For an instant, the irises flashed with different colours.
One shifted through shades of blue and violet.
The other flickered like the Northern Lights.
The figure clenched its fists.
Flexed its fingers.
Rolled its shoulders.
Then the colours settled.
One eye became a pale white iris surrounding black pupils.
The other retained a strange, shifting glow.
The darkness covering its body began to recede.
Shadow turned into skin.
Darkness became honey-brown flesh.
Scars ran across its back and disappeared beneath the darkness covering its skin. Another long scar cut across its face.
And when the transformation finally ended, Reagan stood in the tent.
Naked and utterly expressionless.
There was nothing obviously evil about her.
Nothing benevolent either.
Her presence simply felt wrong in a way that was difficult to explain.
She looked toward the sleeping Callen.
Then she exhaled.
"Empty shell."
Her voice was low and eerie, almost unused.
"I didn't think walking around in your skin would turn me into such an emotional wuss."
She flexed her fingers.
"Still... it served our purpose efficiently."
Reagan reached for a pair of trousers lying beside the chair and pulled them on. She grabbed a loose shawl and wrapped it around herself.
That was when the tent flap suddenly opened.
Gabrielle stepped inside.
Reagan's hand lifted instantly.
Magic ignited across her palm.
Gabrielle stopped.
Then slowly raised both hands.
"Are you always this tense after skinwalking?"
Reagan stared at her.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Reagan lowered her hand.
She sat down heavily on the edge of the chair and let out a quiet chuckle.
"I am the most dangerous after."
Gabrielle lowered her hands.
Reagan leaned forward, elbows resting against her knees.
"My mind isn't fully back yet."
Her strange eyes lifted toward Gabrielle.
"And when I'm not fully myself..."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"...I tend to forget which people I'm supposed to leave alive."
Gabrielle watched her for a moment.
Then she walked over and sat down.
"What was that?"
Reagan glanced at her.
Gabrielle tilted her head.
"You just left."
Her voice was light, but her eyes weren't.
"Without any explanation you left the council chamber, and then you reappear even more unsettled. Care to explain"
Reagan gave a quiet laugh.
"Callen has always been a wimp. It rubs off on me sometimes."
Gabrielle's lips pursed into a small pout.
"That is not an answer."
"It is the answer you're getting."
Gabrielle held her gaze for another second.
Then she looked away.
She had learned long ago that pushing Rea too hard only made her close herself off.
Still, something about the way Rea had spoken unsettled her.
Not the anger.
The fact that she had been emotional at all.
Gabrielle glanced toward the motionless body.
"So he's still in there?"
Reagan followed her gaze.
"Callen is dead."
Gabrielle's expression tightened.
"But some of his essence remains."
She tapped two fingers against her temple.
"I need it there to wear his skin. Without it, I couldn't reproduce him accurately enough."
Gabrielle looked back at the body.
For a moment, her face softened.
"I really hoped we wouldn't have to do that to him."
Reagan didn't answer.
Instead, she crossed the tent and stopped beside a small table covered with fruit.
She picked up a pear.
Took a bite.
Chewed.
Then, almost casually, she said,
"Although I may say, this little emotional outburst did create an opportunity."
Gabrielle looked up.
Reagan took another bite.
"I met Harry's offspring."
Something changed in Gabrielle's expression.
Barely.
Her shoulders loosened, then tightened again.
Reagan didn't seem to notice.
"Quite bright for such a foolish father."
There was something in the way she said father.
A little too sharp.
A little too dismissive.
Gabrielle caught it immediately.
"He must have taken after his mother."
Reagan stopped chewing.
Her eyes moved slowly toward Gabrielle.
A faint frown appeared.
"Perhaps."
She swallowed.
"Speaking of her..."
Reagan leaned against the table.
"I met her."
Gabrielle's fingers began fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.
She tried to stop them.
Failed.
"What was it like?"
Reagan looked at her.
"Meeting her alone, I mean."
There was a carefulness to Gabrielle's voice now.
Too careful.
Reagan noticed.
"I felt nothing."
Gabrielle's eyes stayed on her face.
She searched for the smallest hesitation.
A change in breathing.
A flicker in those strange eyes.
Anything.
Nothing.
Reagan picked up another piece of fruit.
"I managed to get her attention," she continued. "That's what matters."
Gabrielle gave a small nod.
"Of course."
Her voice sounded perfectly composed.
Only her thumb betrayed her, rubbing anxiously against the side of her finger.
Reagan bit into the fruit.
"Now we keep her busy."
Gabrielle looked up.
"Busy doing what?"
"Digging into Callen."
Reagan's eyes hardened.
"Let her become suspicious. Let her chase every inconsistency around him. Let her waste her time trying to understand what he may or may not be part of."
She pushed herself away from the table and walked toward Gabrielle.
"She'll keep looking until she finds something."
"And while she's looking?"
"We move."
Reagan pulled a chair over and sat directly opposite Gabrielle.
Her elbows rested on her knees.
"She is the only thing keeping this realm functioning."
Gabrielle's expression grew more serious.
Reagan's fingers intertwined.
"We take her out."
A beat.
"Harry becomes defenceless."
Gabrielle exhaled slowly.
Her eyes dropped for a moment.
Then returned to Rea.
"You make it sound simple."
"It isn't."
Reagan's gaze remained fixed on hers.
"That's why we're going to play our part as best as possible."
Gabrielle was quiet.
She knew Rea.
Better than most people did.
And there was one thing she had learned never to trust completely:
Rea's claim that she felt nothing.
Gabrielle looked down at her hands.
Then, softly,
"She is extremely cunning, Rea."
Reagan's mouth curved faintly.
"And suspicious."
"Yes."
Gabrielle's eyes lifted.
There was something almost pleading in them now, though her voice remained steady.
"Don't underestimate her."
Gabrielle frowned.
Reagan leaned back.
"That will be her undoing."
Reagan's strange eyes flickered.
"People who are suspicious of everything eventually become unable to recognize the truth when it is standing directly in front of them."
Gabrielle said nothing.
She only watched her.
Because what frightened her wasn't that Rea wanted to destroy Annabella.
It was how calmly she could say it.
And somewhere beneath that calm, Gabrielle couldn't help wondering whether nothing was truly what Rea had felt when she saw her again.
Reagan looked toward Callen's motionless body.
Then back at her.
"And Annabella is about to become very, very invested or should I say distracted."