Beru’s bracelet rolled down her wrist and Ephyra froze, staring at the seashells she’d collected from the beach of Pallas Athos, the fine thread Beru had picked out of the drapes in her room.

It was always so easy for Ephyra, the killing.

When she’d been the Pale Hand, killing so Beru could live. And after, in Behezda, writing her own rules in blood.

She stared into Dracon’s eyes, and she had no remorse for him. His cruelty, his utter disregard for the desperation of others. He didn’t deserve the life he had. He had no right to it.

But then, what right did she have to take it from him? Just because she could? Because she’d seen the fear in Nephele’s eyes, the impossible decision she’d made to protect the sister she loved?

Was this what she was meant for or was it just the story she’d told herself, until she began to believe it was the truth?

You don’t have to be what they say, Illya had said to her, once.

“On second thought,” Ephyra said, shoving herself to her feet as Dracon stared up with wide, terrified eyes. “You’re not worth my time.”

Ephyra had to work quickly. Dracon would’ve summoned the guards by now, and they were probably sweeping the grounds, searching for her. It turned out, however, that worked in her favor, because when she arrived at Lady Galanis’s quarters, there were no guards in sight.

Ephyra slipped into the room. The last embers were smoking in the fireplace across from a grand bed where a tiny figure was curled beneath thick blankets.

“Lady Galanis?” Ephyra called. There was no answer, except a slight whistling snore.

She crept closer. Nephele had said Lady Galanis had gotten sick months ago, and when Ephyra looked down at the woman she saw that was clearly the truth. The woman was so frail she looked almost skeletal, her white hair matted to her head. Her skin was an ashen brown, except beneath her eyes where it looked almost blue.

Ephyra closed her eyes and curled one hand on Lady Galanis’s bony wrist, the other pressed against her heart. She took a breath and thought back to the ship, when she’d healed Jude. Focusing on Lady Galanis’s pulse, Ephyra poured some of her own esha into the woman. She could feel her growing stronger, more substantial, and when Ephyra opened her eyes, she saw the color returning to Lady Galanis’s face.

The woman coughed, and then suddenly bolted up in bed. Ephyra reeled back, startled, as Lady Galanis’s eyes opened.

Ephyra took a breath and hoped that what Nephele had said about this woman was true.

“Lady Galanis?” Ephyra asked gently.

The woman turned to her, blinking owlishly in the dim light. “Who are you? What are you doing in my bedchambers?”