"The prettiest roses often grow where the blood is freshest."
The corridors beneath Madoc's estate were older than memory. Once part of a fortress before Faerieland banished him, they now held weapons, scrolls, and secrets that had never seen sunlight.
Torches burned low on the damp walls as Odessa followed Wether down the spiral stairs. Her boots echoed against the stone, each step louder than the last. Wether gave her a sideways glance, eyebrows raised.
"Nervous?" he asked, almost amused.
"Terrified," she muttered. "Thrilled. Depends on the second."
"Good," he grinned. "Means you're not stupid."
The final stair opened into a war chamber lit by a singular iron chandelier. A table in the center glowed with scattered maps, blood-red wax seals, and brass daggers stabbed into key cities.
Madoc stood at the head of the table, tall and cloaked in ash-grey, his face partially hidden under a low hood. His eyes, however, were sharp as broken glass.
"Odessa," he greeted, his voice graveled and deep. "It's time."
She stepped forward. "You have a plan?"
Madoc nodded and gestured for her to come closer.
"We will send you back," he said. "But not as their daughter. As ours. A dagger wearing a daughter's name."
Odessa's heart kicked inside her chest.
"You want me to lie to them."
"No," Madoc said. "I want you to smile to them, as they've smiled to you all your life. I want you to play the part they think you are— the forgotten half-blood. But this time… with your eyes open."
He unfurled a map of the palace and circled chambers in black ink.
"Places the council meets. Where they keep records. Forbidden towers no heir has access to unless they're ready to inherit."
"You want me to spy on my own family."
Wether stepped beside her, arms crossed, smirking. "Is it really spying if they never treated you like family to begin with?"
Odessa's fingers curled around the edge of the table.
She remembered the Queen's cold stare. The way her siblings pretended not to hear when she spoke. Her father's silence when she asked about the forged crown.
They buried her in silence for years. Maybe now she'd return the favor—with silence just as sharp.
"But how?" she asked. "They'll know I vanished. They'll ask questions."
Madoc smiled faintly. "That's the beauty of this. You won't lie. Just… rearrange the truth."
He handed her a satchel of scrolls sealed with the sigil of exile. "You will say you were found by a traveler near the Border Woods. You were injured. Delirious. The man didn't know who you were, but brought you to me—an exiled general once loyal to the High Crown."
"You'll claim you didn't remember your name at first," Wether chimed in, tossing her a hooded cloak. "Too much blood, too little sense. Worked for me once."
Odessa raised an eyebrow. "How did that end?"
"I got stabbed," Wether said cheerfully. "But I lived. You'll do better."
She let out a shaky breath.
"I'll need a scar," she whispered. "To make it real."
Madoc nodded. "Wether knows a glamour spell. It will fade, but long enough to be convincing."
"And when I get back?"
"You will be watched," Madoc warned. "But also underestimated. That is your advantage. You'll listen. Watch. Search."
"And if they find out?"
"Then you run," Wether said, less dramatically. "Or you fight. Either way, don't die. That would make things boring."
Odessa smirked despite herself.
She felt the old fear rising again. But it wasn't cold this time. It was fire—controlled, waiting.
Madoc stepped closer and handed her a thin silver dagger in a leather sheath. It was curved, like a crescent moon.
"This belonged to your mother," he said softly. "The one from your dreams."
Odessa's breath caught.
"She was not a myth. Nor was her death an accident."
And with that, the meeting was over.
---
✦ ✦ ✦
Returning to the palace was like walking into a beautiful nightmare.
The guards gasped at her arrival. The Queen stood tall in her throne room, looking her over as if she were examining a crack in a mirror. The King remained seated, silent. Unreadable.
Odessa bowed, clutching her side as if still sore.
"I... I was in the woods," she whispered. "I got lost. A man found me and brought me to General Madoc's estate. I didn't remember anything until the second morning."
Lies wrapped in truth. Delivered with trembling hands and a faint, fake scar Wether had enchanted onto her cheek.
The Queen said nothing for a long moment.
Then: "You should've sent word."
"I couldn't," Odessa lied, perfectly.
"Madoc is a traitor," the Queen said.
"I didn't know who he was. He seemed... kind."
The Queen's lips thinned.
They believed her. Or at least, they wanted to.
And Odessa knew: this was how it began.
The halls welcomed her again.
But this time, she wasn't a ghost.
She was a shadow with a blade.
And the palace would never be the same.