Following Chloe's directions, I found Candice in her study. It was in the basement, and she'd clearly been turning the cramped space into her own private library, shelves jammed with books and half-finished notes. I stood in the doorway for almost a full minute without being noticed before deciding to try my luck. I took a few quiet steps inside until I was nearly beside her.

  "Hello, Candice," I began, carefully.

  "EEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Her chair launched backward with her still in it, hitting the floor hard enough to rattle the shelves. Several sheets of paper burst upward like startled birds, and her feet shot up after them in a tangle of skirt and limbs.

  I plucked the drifting pages out of the air while she flailed her way free of the overturned chair. "Chloe! What have I told you! My notes are ruined!" she ranted, brushing herself off before looking up.

  Everyone was right. She did look like me. Not identical, but close enough that a quick glance might fool someone. Same bone structure, same hair—hers just a little shorter. Her eyes were a bright, clear sky blue compared to my pale, icy shade.

  "Who… are you?" she asked, completely thrown.

  "I'm you, from the future. I've come back to warn you of a terrible fate," I said with all the solemnity I could muster.

  She paled and took a step back.

  I couldn’t hold back the grin. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I'm your cousin Mirela—Marie’s daughter. I was hoping you'd go with me to the market. I need to get a dress made for the festival tomorrow. Aunt Violette said you knew a tailor the family likes."

  As a peace offering, I held out her very much not ruined notes.

  "Gods above! You scared me half to death!" she yelped, reaching out to snatch her notes and check them over. "Thanks. I’ve been scribbling nonstop the past two days. If these were ruined, I would have absolutely lost my mind. The ink dries so slowly down here."

  I glanced around the room and its total lack of windows. "Yeah, I can see why. But if we set them out and go shopping, they'd probably be dry by the time we get back."

  "Oh. Yes—shopping! I do need some things from the market. And you want to see Janice? I can take you to her. How long have you been in town? No one told me. Wait, did you say you were Marie's daughter?"

  "Yes, that's me. I only arrived a little while ago. Aunt Violette made tea and helped me get settled into my mother's old room."

  Candice sucked in a breath just to release it in an overly dramatic sigh. "Thank the gods! Grandpa Basile has been beside himself! He thought you wouldn’t make it in time! This is perfect. I know exactly what you need."

  She swept past me and straight out the door, leaving me turning in a circle before she reappeared, grabbed my hand, and hauled me along like a runaway carriage. We were halfway through the entryway before she shouted over her shoulder, "We’re going to the market!"—a declaration I wasn’t convinced anyone even heard.

  Once we reached the front path, I picked up my pace to walk beside her, trying not to laugh at the whirlwind I’d apparently just unleashed.

  "Mother is correct. We must go to Janice. She's the only one who can make your robes in time!"

  "Robes? I was hoping to have a nice dress made. I'm going with a friend tomorrow, and I want to look nice. He's dressing formally too."

  Candice stopped dead and spun to face me, eyes narrowing with surgical precision. "You're not courting someone, are you? Who is it?"

  I nearly tripped. "What? No! Not at all. I'm going with Laurent Ashford."

  She let out a dramatic “Phew! Okay, that’s good—perfect!” and immediately resumed dragging me down the street. "We can do a dress! Yes! But you'll need a mantle. Something formal. Maybe with the family insignia embroidered on it."

  I couldn’t help giggling at how violently her mood swung. She shot me a baffled look, and I managed, "I can't help it! You're all over the place—and you're so serious! It’s only a festival."

  "It's not only a festival!" she declared, aghast. "There will be a huge announcement, and Grandpa says it's the most important festival they've held in my entire lifetime. If you hadn't made it in time, it would've been disastrous! There was already so much stress over how late Laurent waited to come to town. Just imagine if something had happened on the road!"

  "Why do I matter?" I asked, a little uneasy.

  She didn’t answer right away, so I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. The words burst out of her in a rush, "I don't know! But even the Oracle has been pressuring Grandpa to find you. He's going to be so relieved to see you there tomorrow. Everyone kept saying you were dead and that we should give up. Even the rest of the family."

  Her voice dipped on the last part, heavy with something hurt and honest.

  "I see," I said softly. "I'm sure it can't be anything too important, but… I’ll do my best."

  As Candice led us through the city, people kept stepping out of her way, at first subtly, then almost with practiced precision. It wasn’t until another cleric passed us going the opposite direction and earned the same treatment that I finally understood. Candice’s white-and-gold dress marked her as church clergy. Here in Valoria, that meant respect. And a cleric moving with purpose? No one wanted to be the one who slowed her down.

  It took nearly half an hour to reach the shop, which made sense given the pace she set. Before I knew it, we were stepping into a plain stone building that looked like any other from the outside. Inside, however, was an explosion of color. Dresses and suits filled the floor displays, cloth samples in every imaginable shade lined the walls, and apprentices wove between customers, arms full of notes and fabric.

  Candice, still gripping my hand like I might flee at any moment, cut straight through the front room without breaking stride. She led me past the apprentices, through a doorway, and into the workrooms in back. It was a maze of tables, bolts of fabric, mannequins, half-finished garments, and people working at an impressive pace—but she moved through it like she’d been born here.

  She didn’t stop until we reached a single closed door at the far end of the workshop.

  She gave three sharp knocks and called out, "Madam Janice, it's Candice. We have an emergency order!"

  We waited nearly thirty seconds in absolute silence before the door finally swung open. The woman who appeared was… remarkable. Easily old enough to be my grandmother, yet she carried herself like someone decades younger. Her outfit was a riot of mismatched fabrics and patterns—at least three eras and color palettes fighting for dominance—but somehow, impossibly, she made it elegant.

  Her gaze swept over Candice, then lanced through me as if she could see my very soul.

  "You need an outfit for tomorrow. You must be Marie's girl. Come inside."

  She turned, and we followed her in. Candice wasted no time.

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  "She'll need something formal, but she wants a dress that will match her date. He's likely to be dressed like a formal paladin. We were thinking a dress with a mantle embroidered with the family insignia, but it has to be formal enough to stand beside the Oracle."

  Janice stopped in the center of the room, turned, and without a single word, began undressing me with Candice’s eager assistance. I was so blindsided, I didn’t object until half my outer layers were already gone.

  "What are you two doing?" I finally managed as my cloak vanished somewhere behind me. "Do I really have to be naked for this?"

  "Stand still," Janice ordered. "What is your name? You're going to need velvet mules as well. You can't wear those boots tomorrow. I'll have a pair made to match."

  "I'm Mirela…" I answered weakly, trying not to die from a sudden and unfamiliar wave of embarrassment.

  Candice waved a hand. "Don't be shy. The faster she gets your measurements, the faster it's over."

  Janice circled me with the intensity of a master craftswoman, mapping the contours of a priceless sculpture. "You have such perfect pale skin. We'll need something to contrast with the white fabric. Wear your hair framing your face tomorrow. You'll need blush—a soft pink. Deep berry or red for your lips. Black for the lashes and liner. Taupe on the eyes. Nothing too ornate. We must preserve your look of purity."

  Moments later, two more apprentices appeared, and the whirlwind truly began. They rotated me through dress after dress as Janice stalked around us, inspecting every seam and silhouette. Fabrics changed, components swapped, accessories pinned and unpinned in a blur. At some point she moved to an easel positioned against the far wall, a massive frame with oversized sheets held in place by clips, and began sketching quick outlines with charcoal sticks worn down to nubs.

  Half an hour passed in a storm of fabrics and opinions before she abruptly ripped the entire sheet off the easel and let it fall. With renewed focus, she set up a fresh, even larger sheet and began a full design, sketching lines and jotting notes so rapidly that I barely followed what she was doing.

  "That's enough," she declared at last. "Get her dressed before she catches a cold. I will have everything delivered tonight. This will be expensive. Shall I bill the family account?"

  I started to raise a hand to object, but Candice jumped in immediately. "Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you, Madam Janice."

  I gave up with a quiet sigh. I could settle it later. Bowing my head, I echoed, "Thank you, Madam Janice."

  "Yes, yes. Now off with you two. It's past supper time."

  The words hit like a blast of dry air. I’d been distracted long enough to forget my hunger—but the reminder brought it clawing right back to the surface. My hands curled into fists as I forced it down. This was going to be a real problem soon. I’d have to slip out again tonight. I couldn’t put it off much longer.

  Candice wrapped her hand around mine, and I loosened my grip enough to let her. She had us out of the shop and halfway down the street before I realized we were outside again. I’d been completely lost in thought, turning over the same problem again and again—how I could safely feed inside a city this crowded.

  Father and the others had told me plenty about how they used to hunt, but they’d always been on the move, never in one place long enough for patterns to matter. And they had never been very descriptive about the parts that actually mattered. “Undesirables” was the term they’d used. People who wouldn’t be missed. That was all well and good for them, but how was I supposed to tell who those people were? Staring at strangers on a busy street and trying to decide who society valued least didn’t feel like something I could, or should, do.

  I could feed on monsters, of course, if they were strong enough, but there wouldn’t be anything like that near a fortified city. Not without causing a panic.

  As I spiraled through useless ideas, we passed from the craftsman’s district through a slice of the main market, then back toward the grey stretch between the market and the residential areas. Everything blurred together. Even this late, the streets still held far more people than I’d ever been around at once. Candice seemed entirely focused on weaving us through the crowd, which was fortunate; I probably would’ve embarrassed myself if she’d tried to hold a conversation while I was busy drowning in my own thoughts.

  I smirked at that and finally decided I should at least try to get to know my cousin instead of thinking myself in circles. I could worry about hunting later… after I found a way to sneak out.

  I looked over at her. She was concentrating so seriously on nothing more dramatic than walking in a straight line that I couldn’t help but smile. I opened my mouth to tease her—

  —when a large, round man barreled into us from the side, knocking both of us off our feet.

  Annoyed, I started to push myself up, only for a meaty arm to clamp around my neck and haul me clean off the ground. My breath caught as I was yanked backward into the mouth of an alley. Reflex kicked in; I grabbed at the arm to take the pressure off my throat, legs kicking uselessly in the air.

  The man carrying me only took a few staggering steps inside before he leaned back against the wall, still holding me up with his arm hooked tight around my throat. His forearm dug into the side of my neck, keeping my feet just high enough that I couldn’t get any purchase. Then he lifted a knife in front of my face, slowly and deliberately, close enough that I could see my reflection in the tarnished metal.

  Across the narrow alley, I caught sight of Candice. Another man had her by the back of the collar, dragging her in like a misbehaving cat. He shoved her against the opposite wall and pressed a sword point toward her nose. She tried to scramble away, but there was nowhere to go.

  “Money. Jewels. Now!” the man with the sword barked.

  His partner behind me added, in a lower and much more unpleasant rumble, “And those boots.”

  Candice was panicking, staring at nothing but the sword in her face, and that made me realize I was doing something similar. I stopped kicking and forced myself to think as the first man repeated his demands, waving his blade at her again. I looked down as best I could at the arm holding me. It was dirty, thick, and strong. I fixed my grip around his elbow and wrist, braced my back against his chest, and drove my knees up as hard as I could. It wasn’t enough to break his hold entirely, but it loosened it. I tucked my chin, felt the smallest bit of space open, and sank my fangs into the crook of his arm.

  His scream blurred into the background as the rush of blood hit my tongue. Hunger drowned out everything else. He tried to pull back, but the pain and sudden weakness dragged him forward instead, and my feet hit solid ground. My hands locked around his arm like a vice. I didn’t even try to hold back the venom. It flooded into him as I fed, and his weight sagged heavier against me when his legs gave out.

  For several long seconds, the world narrowed to the frantic thrum of his heart and the warmth filling my mouth. His partner was yelling something at Candice, but I barely heard him over the pulse I was draining dry. It wasn’t until Candice cried out in pain that the haze snapped.

  The man slumped over my back was only a few breaths from death, but she needed me. I saw his knife on the ground and leaned forward, hauling his limp body over my shoulder to drop him to the dirt. I snatched up the knife, large enough to be a proper dagger, and drove it straight into his heart.

  Then I turned toward Candice.

  She had a shallow cut on her cheek and was flat on her back with the man snarling demands at her. He hadn’t even glanced behind him during my struggle with his friend. I stepped forward, grabbed his left shoulder and right elbow to trap the sword, and yanked him backward. He stumbled straight into me, and before he could react, I sank my fangs into his neck.

  He went limp far faster than the first man. I twisted his falling weight away from Candice and let the Blood Drain take hold. This time it came slower, more controlled; my reserves were already more than half full. Even so, I pulled as much from him as I dared before I heard Candice pushing herself upright behind me. Reluctantly, I let him drop, picked up his sword, and drove it down into his spine.

  I wiped my lips and teeth clean as neatly as I could before turning back toward her. I kept my eyes low, unsure how much she’d seen—or what she’d think. Killing two men wasn’t something most people could witness calmly, and if she’d caught even a hint of how I did it… that was a different kind of danger entirely. When she stayed quiet, I tried to break the silence.

  “Are you okay?”

  It took her a moment to answer. “Y-yes. I have healing magic. I’m a cleric.” She hesitated, then added, “Are you?”

  I nodded once. Looking at the bodies and the spreading blood, I said, “We should go. They might have friends.”

  “We should get the guard,” she said at the same moment.

  My eyes went wide. “Can we not get the guard? I’d really prefer people not know what I’ve done.”

  Candice blinked, confused. “No one will be angry at you for killing brigands, Mirela.”

  “Please, Candice?”

  Her expression softened. After a heartbeat, she nodded. “Then let’s go quickly.”

  She turned and started out of the alley, and I moved to follow when I noticed a pouch on the swordsman’s belt. I grabbed it, slipped it into a pocket, and hurried after her. This time, I took her hand, and she squeezed mine with real relief. We walked in silence most of the way home, and I spent that time trying to figure out how in the world to start a conversation about what had happened. I’d already invented a dozen excuses in my head.

  “Thank you, Mirela,” she said suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  I glanced over. “You’re not mad?”

  She let out a sharp laugh. “Mad? You saved us. I had no idea you were that strong. Where have you been that you learned to take down two grown men without even a weapon?”

  I shrugged. “Have you heard of the Dark Forest?” Her look made it clear she thought I was teasing again, but I didn’t say anything else.

  “Alright,” she said after a moment, though she still didn’t sound convinced. “I need to train more. I can’t believe I froze. I had plenty of spells that could’ve helped.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. No one expects to be ambushed like that. But you’re right, more training is always a good idea.”

  “Do you think we could train together?” she asked.

  I lit up. “Of course! I’d love that. We have so much lost time to make up for.”

  I wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but they were true. If things had been different, I probably would have grown up knowing Candice. We were close in age. It only made sense.

  When she smiled back, I knew she felt it too. It almost made me forget that my time here would be brief—that home, for better or worse, still lay deep within the Dark Forest.

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