Breakfast looked normal. That made it worse.
Sun pushed through the high windows. Coffee steamed. Silverware lined up like soldiers. Nitron sat at the head of the table with a quiet smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Elma. Calista." He gestured. "Eat."
Elma took the chair to his left. Calista glided to his right, perfect posture, hands still. Kade stood near the doors, unreadable as ever.
"You work late," Nitron said, buttering bread like a man with no enemies. "The wards complained last night. Overly sensitive things."
Calista lifted her cup. "We'll have the steward check the seals."
"No need," Nitron said lightly. His gaze slid to Elma. "I prefer to ask the people who keep me safe."
The leash warmed at Elma's throat. The shard under her ribs answered with a steady pulse. Two rhythms. Not friendly.
"I'll handle it," Elma said.
"I know." Nitron's mouth curved. "You always do."
He poured tea for Calista himself. A show. "The council is restless. House Thorn preens. House Frostspawn licks old wounds. As always, our job is to make people remember where power sits." He glanced between them. "I'm counting on both of you."
"Of course," Calista said smoothly.
Elma kept her face bored. "Tell me where to start."
"With quiet," Nitron said. "No duels. No scandals. Take the donors in hand. Calm the room."
He let that sit, then added, softer, "And stay close. Both of you. There are places in this house I do not want you."
The shard thumped once under her sternum. Elma felt Calista go still for half a second.
"Understood," Elma said.
Nitron tipped his cup to her like a toast. "Good girl."
Kade's eyes flicked to Elma's collar, then away. He had noticed the twitch in the leash. He noticed everything.
Breakfast ended with no raised voices, no threats. Just that calm. False as a painted smile.
"Enjoy your day," Nitron said, dismissing them with warmth. "Make me proud."
They left together. The door shut. The warmth dropped away like a coat.
"He knows something," Calista said under her breath.
"He knows everything," Elma said. "He just likes to watch."
They walked the main corridor. Servants moved faster than usual, voices low. Two guards stood where there were never guards. A portrait on the landing seemed to face the wrong way. When Elma glanced back, it was correct again.
"The house feels off," Calista said.
"It learned some of the Shadow Hall's bad habits," Elma muttered.
The door at the end of the hall refused to open for a full three seconds before creaking wide on its own. The shard inside her chest warmed and cooled like a warning.
[Status: Suspicion Rising]
House Behavior: Unstable.
Recommendations: Limit exposure. Limit witnesses.
They reached Calista's private sitting room and locked the door.
Masks dropped.
Calista crossed straight to the cabinet, pulled out a kit, and set it on the table. "Shirt."
Elma peeled the tunic over her head. The sigils along her collarbone glowed faintly, thin lines tucked under skin, climbing her neck like careful writing. Calista's jaw tightened at the sight.
"Any pain?" she asked.
"When I move wrong." Elma sat. "When he gets too close."
Calista's fingers hovered, then settled. Cool cloth. Careful pressure. She cleaned a slice at Elma's ribs from last night's chain trap and didn't comment when Elma flinched the second time, not the first.
"You're burning hot," Calista murmured.
"It's the shard," Elma said. "And the company."
Calista shot her a look she'd learned from queens and then, quieter, "I watched it take you. That wasn't power. That was theft that decided to feel tender."
Elma breathed once, slow. "I'm still me."
"Prove it."
Elma met her eyes. "Nitron dies on our terms. I don't bend on that. That sound like me?"
Calista's mouth softened. "Yes."
She traced one sigil with a fingertip. It brightened under her touch, a soft gold that slid into Elma's skin and came back out as heat between them. The leash gave a warning bite. They ignored it.
"Elma," Calista said. "The circle. Maker, Vessel, Owner." Her throat worked. "We can bring him down there. Or we can choose the other price."
Elma heard the second option under the words: or the one who loves you more than he does.
"No," Elma said.
"You didn't let me finish."
"I don't need to," Elma said. "You are not the knife the hall gets to use."
Calista's control cracked for a beat. "And you are?"
"I already signed up," Elma said. "I'm the one with a lock in my chest."
Silence. The candles hissed in the slight draft from the vents.
Calista tied clean bandage around Elma's ribs, fingers efficient, voice low. "We'll need allies to pull him downstairs. Kade won't move without proof. The donors are slimy, not brave."
"Adrien Rauth hates his father's leash," Elma said. "He'll help if it hurts Thorn more than it hurts him."
"We'll take whatever we can get," Calista said. "Quietly. I can pull two advisors. Maybe three."
"Put them on doors and candles, not swords," Elma said. "I don't want a war in the halls. I want a corridor that only opens once."
Calista nodded. "I can make the locks moody."
Elma huffed. "They came that way."
A low pulse rolled under Elma's ribs. Not pain. A nudge. Words formed without sound.
Names open doors.
Elma blinked. "It's talking again."
"What did it say?"
"Names," Elma said. "True ones."
Calista frowned. "Old wards like old names. The Shadow Hall keyed to the maker's language. We'll need the right words to bring him in or out."
"Can you find them?"
"Yes," Calista said, automatic. Then, softer, "Probably."
Elma caught her wrist. "You're allowed to be scared."
"I am," Calista said. "I'm also busy."
A knock. Sharp. They both froze. The knock came again, softer this time, like the house remembered manners.
"Elma," Kade's voice, through the wood. "A word."
Calista stepped back, mask sliding into place. Elma tugged the tunic down, hiding the light.
Kade entered when they allowed it. He looked at Elma first, then at Calista, then at the room. His gaze lingered one beat too long on the candles. Three flames leaned the same direction though there was no draft.
"You're both hard to find," he said.
"Schedule conflict," Elma said. "We're busy not dying."
He ignored that. "The Master is… generous today."
Calista's eyebrow arched. "You came to compliment his mood?"
"I came to warn you that generosity comes with a ledger." He glanced at Elma's collar. "Whatever woke the wards last night woke him. He won't show it. But he won't sleep."
Elma studied him. "And you? Do you sleep, Kade?"
"When useful." He paused. The next line cost him. "If there were a door you needed opened, I would prefer you tell me before you try keys you don't understand."
Calista's chin lifted. "Are you offering help or threatening to keep up?"
"Both," Kade said simply.
Elma almost smiled. "We'll call you when we need a locksmith."
He inclined his head, eyes narrowing a fraction at her choice of word. "Do."
He left. The door clicked shut. The house swallowed the sound like it had been fed.
Calista exhaled. "He knows."
"He suspects," Elma said. "That's all he ever needs."
They moved to the desk. Calista unrolled a thin map of the manor's lower levels. Most of it was blank. She drew three small Xs. "Guard posts that answer to me, not him. Two servants who close their eyes when asked. And the south stair that sticks when you whisper 'merit' in Old Vale."
Elma frowned. "Merit?"
"It's a joke from four generations ago," Calista said. "My family thinks we're funny."
Elma tapped the paper. "We'll use the north stair anyway."
Calista looked up. "Why?"
"He'll expect south from you," Elma said. "And left from me."
Calista smiled, quick and sharp. "Right it is."
The shard pressed in her chest again. Another word, colder this time.
Blood.
Elma rubbed her sternum. The sigils warmed her fingers. "It keeps repeating itself."
Calista's gaze followed the movement. "We'll use his."
"Good," Elma said.
They built a list. Names. Doors. Hours the guards were laziest. Tiny routes that looked like coincidences. It came together fast because it had to. Because the house felt like it might change the map if they waited an hour.
Calista sealed two notes with blank wax and no crest. Elma memorized the schedule in case paper became a liability.
"Tonight," Calista said.
"Tonight," Elma agreed.
They stood too close a moment too long. The leash nipped. Neither moved.
"After," Calista said. "After, we leave."
Elma held her eyes. "After, we choose where to go."
A draft shot through the room.
No windows open. No vents. Every candle flame straightened, then snapped out in a clean line from the door to the far wall, like someone walking past with invisible hands.
Dark. Then the chill of magic in the back of the teeth.
Nitron's voice, everywhere at once, calm as breakfast.
"You're late."
The door handle turned on its own. A lock surrendered. The latch clicked.
[Summoned: Master's Study]
Privacy: Compromised.
Timer: Immediate.
Calista's hand found Elma's in the dark. The leash bit hard; they let it. Neither let go.
"Ready?" Calista whispered.
"Always," Elma said.
They opened the door and walked into the light.