The letter didn't last long.
Her mother thrust it into Flare's hands with barely a word, face twisted into something between rage and cold control. "Burn it. Now."
Flare didn't hesitate. She crossed the room and threw it into the fireplace, watching the paper curl at the edges before the flames took it whole. The room should have felt lighter after that. It didn't.
Her mother paced, fists clenched at her sides, the click of her heels sharp against the floor.
"Sylana…"
The name came out through gritted teeth, low and venomous.
"You, selfish, twisted, how dare you. Your own family."
It wasn't just anger. Flare had seen her mother angry before cold, calculating anger, the kind that made seasoned fighters go pale. But this was different. This cracked at the edges. Beneath the fury, there was something rawer. Betrayal, maybe. Or grief.
Flare stood still and said nothing. Some moments weren't hers to interrupt.
"I knew she was trouble." Her mother stopped pacing, staring at the fire as the last of the letter disintegrated into ash. "But this is destroying the family. The legacy. All of it, for her games."
Eventually, the storm settled into something icier. Her mother turned, and the calm that replaced the rage was somehow worse.
"From now on, we watch Sylana. Closely."
Her eyes met Flare's, direct and unwavering.
"She thinks she can play us. We'll be ready. And Lita—"
A pause.
"She doesn't hear a word of this."
Flare nodded.
She was already moving to leave when the question slipped out before she could stop it.
"What did the letter say? What does Sylana actually want?"
Her mother was quiet for a long moment. Then she sat down, and the exhaustion beneath her composure finally showed—just barely, just for a second.
"She wants Lita."
The words were measured, careful, like she was keeping her own reaction on a leash.
"Full control. She wants to mold her into something useful to herself. And if we refuse—" Her voice dropped.
"She'll go to the head of the Valliere family. My mother."
Flare stilled. "Madam Valliere is... coming here?"
"If Sylana follows through, yes."
Her mother's expression darkened in a way Flare had only seen a handful of times. Not anger. Worry. Real, bone-deep worry.
"My mother's movements are never predictable. She could decide Lita is worth protecting. She could just as easily decide Lita is a liability." She exhaled slowly.
"We can't give her a reason to choose the latter."
Flare swallowed. The matriarch of the Valliere family wasn't someone people spoke about casually. She was the kind of name that changed the air in a room.
"So what do we do?"
Her mother turned back to the window, the city lights dim and distant through the glass. "We accelerate Lita's training. Quietly. If the time comes—and it may come sooner than either of us would like—she needs to be strong enough to hold her own. Even against her own bloodline." She let that sit for a moment. "We play along with Sylana for now. But we don't let her win."
Flare nodded, the dread settling quietly in her chest.
The fire had gone low. The ash was cold. And somewhere outside, the world was already moving against them.