She was back the next morning. Same fog. Same silence. Lita had half-expected her, half-told herself she was imagining things.
"Lita Valliere."
Nope. Real.
Lita turned without flinching this time. "You came back."
"I said we would meet again." The woman's veil shifted slightly. "You were training, weren't you?"
"Yes, just preparing for Ardent Peak. I've been working hard. I want to make my mother proud."
"Your mother…" She let that word sit in the air. "Does she speak much about her own time at Ardent Peak?"
Lita thought about it. "Not really. She mentioned a few things, but she didn't seem to want to talk about it much."
The woman nodded. "There's much about her past you have yet to learn, Lita. But in time, all will be revealed."
Then Flare hit the garden like a thrown blade.
She grabbed Lita and yanked her back in one motion, dagger up, point leveled at the veiled woman's throat before Lita even registered what was happening.
"Leave. Now." Flare's voice was gravel and heat. "Or I'll kill you where you stand."
The veiled woman didn't flinch. Not even a breath. She looked almost entertained. "You have spirit, warrior."
Then Flare choked.
A sharp, small sound — and Flare's hand went to her neck. Her grip on Lita loosened. Behind her stood another woman. Veiled. Maid's uniform. Dagger in hand, wet with blood, pulled fresh from the side of Flare's neck.
"Lay down your weapon," the maid said. No emotion. None at all.
Lita's stomach dropped to the floor.
The first woman smiled — Lita could feel it through the veil. "Let's not cause a scene. How about we all sit down for a cup of tea while we wait for your mother to wake up?" She gestured toward the mansion. Polite. Unhurried. Like she'd just arrived for a scheduled visit.
Flare stayed on her feet by sheer fury. Barely. Her eyes were locked on the maid with the kind of hatred that doesn't need words.
The veiled woman turned back to Lita.
And smiled.
She gestured toward a small garden table. "Sit, my dear."
Lita sat. She didn't know why she sat. She just did.
The veiled woman settled across from her with perfect posture, fingers resting light on the table. "Flare," she said, almost warmly, "be a dear and make us some tea, won't you?"
Flare's jaw worked. She turned. She went inside. She had no choice.
"How have you been, Lita?" the woman asked, voice like silk over something sharp underneath. "How's your training going?"
"It's… it's going well."
The veiled maid appeared beside the table. A platter of sweets materialized on the surface. Not placed. Not set down. Just — there. Lita's skin prickled.
Flare returned with tea. Set it down hard. Started to hand Lita one of the sweets.
The maid's fist connected with Flare's face before she finished the motion.
Lita's chair scraped back half an inch. She didn't stand. She didn't know what she'd do if she stood.
"Don't worry," the woman said softly. "It's not poisoned." A breath of a laugh. "Go ahead, Lita. Enjoy it. This morning is all about you."
Lita picked up a sweet. Took a small bite. It melted. Tasted perfect. She hated that.
The woman leaned forward. Raised a napkin. Pressed it gently to the corner of Lita's mouth where a crumb clung. The gesture was gentle. Intimate. Wrong.
"How old are you now, dear?"
Lita's throat tightened. "I just turned 13."
"Thirteen..." The woman's fingers tapped the rim of her cup. "Such a perfect age. So much potential, and so much power waiting to be unlocked."
Lita didn't answer.
"It's a special age for those with… talents like yours," the woman continued. "You have a bright future ahead of you, Lita. But you must be careful who you trust, even among those closest to you."
Lita glanced at Flare. Flare was pressing two fingers to her jaw, eyes never leaving the veiled woman.