I woke to cold silver against my skin.
For a moment, I thought I’d imagined it, the shape of the necklace, the shadow by the window, the breath of movement that didn’t belong. But the faint ripple in the curtain hem and the whisper, quiet creak in the floorboards said otherwise.
Not a dream. A presence.
Still, I wasn’t going to let it own the morning.
I slipped the necklace into the back of my drawer, burying it beneath scarves and half-forgotten things. Out of sight. Out of reach. Pressed down like a secret I wasn’t ready to name.
Today wasn’t for fear. It was for masks. For diplomacy.
“Try not to burn him alive,” Lena said, flopping on my bed with the grace of a well-fed cat minutes later. “Or do. Honestly, I support it either way.”
“He’s a guest,” I said as I tightened my
