The west garden blazes with morning light, all golden fractals through the hedgerows, but the chill under my skin says this isn’t sanctuary—it’s a battlefield. Mirelle stands rigid beside the marble fountain, her posture braced for impact, arms crossed like she’s already defending herself.
She doesn’t look surprised to see me storming down the path. Perhaps she’s finally ready to confess her sins.
“If this is about the journal—” she begins.
“This is about everything!” I spit, my boots striking stone with violent precision. “Every lie, every betrayal, every moment you chose her over me!”
Her jaw hardens. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” My laugh could cut glass. “By standing silent while Calla orchestrated my destruction? By watching her poison me and saying nothing?”
“Helena, you don’t understand the position I was in—”
“No!” I advance on her, fury blazing through my veins. “You don’t understand! You were supposed to be my sister! You were supposed to fight for me!”
Something breaks in her carefully composed expression. “She had leverage. Real threats that could have destroyed us both.”
“What leverage?” I demand.
She looks away, but I grab her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Tell me. Now.”
“Letters,” she whispers. “About your mother. About what really happened to your mom.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “What do you mean, what really happened?”
“She didn’t just disappear from the records, Helena. She was erased. Deliberately. By people who found her too dangerous, too rebellious, too willing to challenge the system.”
My blood turns to ice. “And Calla knew this?”
“She knew everything. The letters, the portrait, the real reason your mother was executed for treason.” Mirelle’s voice cracks. “She said if I ever betrayed her, she’d release it all. Destroy both our reputations permanently.”
I stagger backward. “So you sacrificed me to protect a dead woman’s secrets?”
“I thought I could manage her! I thought if I stayed close, kept her satisfied, she wouldn’t turn her full attention to destroying you.”
“You thought wrong.” Each word comes out sharp as a dagger thrust. “While you were playing politics, she was hunting me like prey.”
Tears stream down Mirelle’s perfect cheeks. “I know. And I hate myself for it every day.”
“Good,” I snap. “You should hate yourself. You let her make me small while you stayed safe in her shadow.”
“I never felt safe!” she explodes, finally showing real emotion. “Every day was a performance, wondering when she’d tire of our arrangement and destroy me anyway!”
“Then you understand exactly how I felt every day in this place.” I step closer, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Except I had to face her alone while my own supposed sister watched from a distance.”
Mirelle sinks onto the stone bench like her strings have been cut. “You’re right. I was a coward. I chose survival over loyalty, and I lost the only person who ever truly mattered.”
The admission hangs between us like a sword. I want to forgive her. I want to wrap my arms around her and pretend the betrayal never happened. But the wound is too fresh, too deep.
“When my room burned,” I say quietly, “when I had nothing left, I looked for you. Do you know what I found instead?”
She shakes her head, fresh tears spilling.
“Nothing. Empty air where my sister should have been.”
“I wanted to come to you,” she whispers. “Every instinct screamed at me to run to your side. But I was terrified she’d know. Terrified she’d punish us both.”
“So you chose her fear over my need.”
“Yes.” The word comes out like a confession. “And it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
I study her face—the genuine remorse, the self-hatred, the desperate hope for redemption. She looks like she’s been carrying the weight of her choices like stones in her chest.
“I don’t know if I can ever trust you again,” I say finally.
“I don’t expect you to.” She meets my eyes directly. “But if you’ll let me—if you’ll give me the chance—I want to help you destroy her.”
The offer hangs in the air between us like a bridge across a chasm. I could reject it, walk away, let her drown in her guilt. Or I could take the hand she’s extending and use it to bring down our common enemy.
“Why now?” I ask. “What’s changed?”
“Because I watched you fight her alone, and you won.” Mirelle’s voice grows stronger. “Because I realized that everything I was afraid of losing was already gone the moment I chose silence over solidarity.”
I sit beside her on the stone bench—not close enough to touch, but close enough to hear her breathe. The fountain splashes softly between us, filling the silence with something other than accusation.
“She has to pay,” I say quietly.
“Yes,” Mirelle agrees. “She does.”
“And if I let you help me, if I give you this chance—you understand there’s no going back? No more neutrality, no more playing both sides?”
“I understand.” Her voice is steady now, resolved. “I choose you, Helena. Finally, completely, I choose you.”