Delphi stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection as if it belonged to someone else. The glass had a faint warp at its edges that made her cheekbones look sharper, her eyes more hollow.

She was still wearing the same travel-worn clothes. Patched. Scavenged. Held together by stubbornness and mismatched thread. Every piece was a reminder of what she'd done to survive.

She exhaled slowly. Her breath fogged the mirror for just a second. "The idea of caring about my appearance now is laughable," she muttered.

Hope, lounging on the bed with her tails draped like spilled silk over the blankets, tilted her head. The morning light caught the silver tips of her fur. "Well, considering you aren't laughing, it must be important to you."

Delphi groaned. "Not helping."

She hadn't seen her parents in years. She didn't know what to expect. How much had they changed? How much had she changed?

A knock at the door cut through her spiraling thoughts, three sharp raps that made her shoulders tense. Tait entered, his expression grim but steady. Delphi nodded to Hope. "Stay here." The kitsune remained silent, her golden eyes tracking Delphi as she moved toward the door.

Hand in hand, she and Tait walked through the manor. Their footsteps echoed against marble floors veined with grey, the sound swallowed by tapestries that hung heavy with dust and old perfume. Servants stared openly, some curious, some fearful, some whispering behind their hands like wind rustling dead leaves. Delphi kept her gaze forward, feeling their eyes crawl across her back.

At the dining hall doors, carved oak darkened by generations of polish, she inhaled deeply. The air smelled of beeswax candles and something sharper beneath. Tait pushed them open.

The hinges groaned.

At the far end of the long table sat her father, Duke Aaron of House Selene. His build was similar to Jonas's: broad shoulders, sharp posture, the kind of frame that commanded a room before he spoke a word. His silver-white hair was tied into a topknot, severe against his weathered face, and his gold eyes fixed on Delphi with a cold, assessing stare. To his left sat her mother, Duchess Willow. Her icy blue hair, threaded with grey like frost on a windowpane, framed jade eyes that held distrust… and something else Delphi couldn't name. Sorrow, maybe. Or hope, buried deep.

Jonas and Emmy sat on Aaron's right, their breakfast untouched before them. Neither spoke. The silence pressed down like a hand on Delphi's chest.

"So," Aaron said, voice like steel scraping stone, "you are the girl claiming to be Delphi."

Delphi's spine stiffened. She tasted copper at the back of her throat.

"You look like a Selene," Aaron said. "You carry yourself like one. But ten years is a long time. People can be taught a great many things.

"Members of House Selene do not possess ice magic." A pause. "And considering—" He stopped. Started again. "I am curious how you think you fit into this family." 

He wasn't holding back. Delphi opened her mouth, unsure what to say, when her mother stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor.

"Husband, this is a foolish line of questioning." Aaron's brows rose, but Willow ignored him. "My great-grandmother was an ice mage. You know this."

She stepped toward Delphi, her silk slippers whispering across the floor. Her perfume reached Delphi first, jasmine and something herbal. Willow studied her closely, eyes tracing every line, every year written on Delphi's face.

Then she lifted her arms, one up, one down, turning slightly to the side in a half-remembered pose.

"Tell me, child. If I were to do this… what is it called?"

Delphi frowned. "By the looks of it, you're trying to do my silly dance. But you're doing it wrong. There are more steps. That's not the start of it."

Willow froze. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Then her face broke into a radiant, genuine smile Delphi hadn't seen since childhood, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes and made her look years younger. "My starlight!"

She lifted her arms as if to embrace her. Delphi could feel the warmth radiating from her mother's body, could see the tremor in her fingertips, but she stopped. Her gaze flicked to Emmy. Something shuttered behind her eyes. Slowly, she lowered her arms and returned to her seat, the silk of her gown rustling like a sigh.

Aaron watched Delphi for a long, silent moment. The candle flames flickered in his golden eyes. "Very well," he said at last. "The third prince, Prince Leif, visits the day after tomorrow. You will not see him."

Delphi's stomach twisted, cold and tight.

"There is also the Harvest Ball in two weeks," Aaron continued. "You will require a dress and retraining in etiquette. I will have someone begin instruction during the prince's visit."

Delphi paled. Her palms became slick. "Lord Aaron… I don't think I'm ready to attend a ball."

Aaron slammed his hand on the table. The plates rattled. Emmy flinched, her teacup clattering against its saucer. "Members of House Selene do not cower," he snapped. "You will face this head-on. What happened to you is no longer important. What matters is your name."

Delphi's eyes went cold, flat, and emotionless as a frozen lake. "Yes, my lord."

She bowed, the motion mechanical, then turned to leave. Tait moved to follow her, but Aaron's voice cut through the room like a whip crack.

"I will have a word with you as well."

Tait froze. Delphi didn't look back. She walked out of the hall with the quiet grace of someone who had learned to survive monsters, one foot in front of the other, spine straight, face blank, heart locked away where no one could reach it.

~

Emmy slipped out of the dining hall the moment she politely could. She had listened to Duke Aaron scold Tait for several minutes, his voice rising and falling like distant thunder, while Tait stood firm, insisting Delphi wasn't dangerous, insisting she hadn't meant to hurt the maid, insisting she would be more careful.

Emmy admired his loyalty. She also feared it. Because Jonas didn't trust Delphi. And Emmy trusted Jonas more than anyone.

She wandered the manor's halls without direction, her slippers whispering against polished floors that reflected her face back at her in fragments. The morning light filtered through tall windows, casting long shadows that stretched like reaching fingers and made the corridors feel colder than usual. Dust motes drifted in the golden beams.

Eventually, she found herself in the west wing, the family's private floor. The air here smelled different. Older. Like eucalyptus and old books and the ghosts of a hundred childhood memories. All three Selene children had rooms here. Emmy hesitated at the threshold, her hand resting on the carved doorframe. She had never truly felt like she belonged on this floor, even after six years.

Then she saw Delphi.

The girl stood by a tall window overlooking the courtyard, her posture rigid, her gaze distant. Morning light outlined her in gold, but she looked carved from ice; still, silent, unreachable. Emmy's heart thudded against her ribs. She almost turned around and fled. But she forced herself to step forward, deliberately scuffing her slipper against the floor so Delphi wouldn't be startled.

Delphi turned. Their eyes met.

Emmy froze.

Those eyes, cold, unreadable, ancient in a way no twenty-year-old's should be, held her in place like a rabbit caught in a fox's gaze. Emmy made herself move. Delphi had saved her life.

She bowed, the familiar motion grounding her. "I am sorry for not thanking you earlier," Emmy said softly. "For saving me. I am truly grateful."

Surprise flickered across Delphi's face, real surprise that softened the sharp lines of her jaw. "I was only doing what was right," Delphi said. She looked back out the window, and Emmy followed her gaze to the courtyard below where gardeners trimmed hedges into sharp geometric shapes. "You didn't deserve that kind of treatment."

Emmy's chest warmed. She smiled, small but sincere. "Father didn't explain fully why the Harvest Ball is so important," Emmy said. "Maybe he thinks you remember."

Delphi turned back to face Emmy, a frown creasing her brow. "Remember what?"

Emmy hesitated, twisting her fingers together. "It is also the Autumn Debutante."

Delphi's jaw dropped. "What?! Are you serious? He wants my first public appearance to be at a debutante?"

Emmy chewed her lower lip. "Ah… actually, I think it is your debutante. You are, or will be, twenty this year. If it helps… I will be there for mine as well. So you won't be alone."

Delphi turned to her, startled. "You're okay with me attending? I do not want to take your day from you." She tugged at her braided hair, suddenly looking younger, unsure, and for a moment Emmy glimpsed the girl beneath the ice. "To be wholly honest," Delphi muttered, "I don't even want to go."

Emmy grinned. "You won't be the last with those thoughts. It is indeed quite stressful."

A soft, shared moment settled between them, fragile, but real. Like the first green shoot breaking through snow.

Then Jonas appeared at the end of the hall, his boots sharp against the marble. He froze. His eyes darted between Emmy and Delphi, and in an instant he was at Emmy's side, one hand hovering near her elbow, protective as always.

Emmy smiled warmly. "Brother! I thought you would be buried under paperwork."

He gave her a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Almost."

Then he turned to Delphi, expression cooling like water freezing over. "Mother is looking for you. She wants to discuss your clothing. She's waiting in your room."

Delphi nodded. "Thank you, Young Lord."

She turned back to Emmy. "Thank you," Delphi said quietly. "I appreciate your warning."

Emmy watched her walk away, measured steps, straight spine, hands clasped behind her back, and wondered if Delphi wasn't what Jonas feared her to be after all.

~

Delphi stepped into her room and froze.

Her mother was sitting on the sofa, gently stroking Hope's fur. The kitsune leaned into the touch, tails swaying lazily, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. A tea service sat untouched on the low table, steam curling from the spout of a porcelain pot painted with pale blue flowers.

Lady Willow didn't look up as she spoke.

"Did you know," she said softly, her fingers threading through Hope's midnight black coat, "that kitsune only appear to those who have one foot in life and one foot in death?"

Delphi's breath caught. The room suddenly felt smaller.

Willow finally lifted her gaze, jade eyes meeting Delphi's. "It isn't an ill omen," she continued. "It simply means these individuals have seen much in life."

Delphi sat across from her, the cushion sighing beneath her weight. She didn't know what to say. They regarded each other for a long, quiet moment, two strangers who shared blood but not years, separated by a decade of silence and whatever horrors had carved Delphi into who she was now.

Hope's tails whispered against the upholstery.

"Well then," Lady Willow said briskly, shifting the mood like drawing back a curtain, "tomorrow we will be heading to the shopping district."

Delphi blinked. "Shopping?"

"The dressmaker we patron cannot make house calls so close to the Autumn Debutante," Willow explained, smoothing her skirts, "but she will spare an hour to measure you and take your preferences into account."

Her mother's eyes swept over her, clinical, assessing, but not unkind.

"You are taller than Emmy," Willow noted, "and your chest is bigger. But we will find an outfit for you in time."

Delphi suddenly felt overwhelmed. The walls pressed inward. The scent of jasmine and the tea and her mother's presence, all of it crowded against her chest until she couldn't breathe.

"Lady… Mother… I appreciate what you're doing. Truly. But surely she won't be able to have a dress ready for the ball."

Willow stood, smoothing her skirts. "Nonsense. That is why we pay her." She walked toward the door, her footsteps light, pausing with her hand on the brass knob. Its surface gleamed in the afternoon light.

"Your father hasn't been the same since you disappeared," she said quietly, her back to Delphi. "He has become cold and ruthless."

Delphi stiffened.

"I hoped that with time, Emmy might thaw his heart as she did mine." Willow's voice softened to barely more than a whisper. "But it never happened." She turned her head slightly, just enough for Delphi to see the sadness pooling in her eyes, the fine lines grief had etched around her mouth. "Maybe he really just needed you."

She turned back to face Delphi. “Tomorrow, while we are out, the maids will move your belongings to the west wing.”

And with that, she left.

The door clicked shut. The sound echoed.

Delphi sat in the quiet room, the weight of her mother's words settling over her like a cloak she wasn't sure she wanted to wear. Hope padded over and pressed her warm body against Delphi's leg. Outside, birds sang in the courtyard, oblivious to everything.

~

Leif of House Hyperion, third in line to the throne, stood at the tall arched window of his office chambers, one hand resting lightly against the cold glass. Condensation beaded beneath his fingertips. The morning light spilled across the floor in honeyed pools, but he barely noticed it. His mind was far from the palace, far from the duties that waited for him like patient hounds.

At first, he hadn't recognized her. Why would he? The girl he remembered had been warmth and soft laughter, a creature of sunlight who smelled of summer gardens and always had a wooden sword in hand. The woman in the alley had been icy, wary, and sharp as a blade, coiled tight as a snake about to strike.

But then his magic had reached for her. A subtle probe, no more than a brush of power against the edges of her presence. And he felt it.

That unmistakable click.

Like a puzzle piece sliding into place after being lost for years. Like a key turning in a lock he'd thought rusted shut forever.

His breath had caught. His heart had stuttered.

Delphi.

But before he could speak, before he could even take a step toward her, Tait had thrust responsibility of Emmy into him with a muttered apology and vanished into the festival crowd like a coward fleeing a duel.

Leif huffed a quiet laugh at the memory, his breath fogging the glass. He supposed he would forgive Tait for that. Maybe.

After all, he only had himself to blame. If he had been quicker. If he had pushed his magic just a heartbeat sooner. If he had trusted the instinct that had screamed her name the moment he saw the ice in her eyes…

Well. It didn't matter now. She was back. That was all that mattered.

A slow smile curled across his lips, sharp and hungry and unbearably fond. He traced a pattern in the condensation, an old rune. A promise.

"Oh, how I have missed you," he murmured to the empty room, voice low and warm as honey left in the sun. "My lovely Delphi."