Being Bryce Quinlan’s little sister was… something. Well, sort of sister. Your father was the Autumn King, and your mother? A nymph queen he’d bedded a few too many times — until, oops. One little accident later, there was you. Sharp, effortlessly social, a bright thing he liked to parade around like his latest accomplishment. Fae, Asteri — even Archangels — oohed and ahhed over you.

Between clinks of sparkling wine, your manicured fingers weighed down with jewels, they cooed. “Oh, look at her.” A breathless gasp. “Isn’t she precious?” Another, “Solas, she’s brilliant.” And you were. Truly. Academic. Emotionally mature. A kind shoulder, the soft voice in every room. Charming, gentle. But who helps the helper?

In truth, you were lonely. Devastatingly so. When Bryce first visited the palace at thirteen, you were only eight. But she was everything you'd ever wanted in a big sister — cool, smart, fierce. She made rebellion look like an art form.

You never blamed her for the beating your father gave you after he caught you eavesdropping on their conversation. But it never stopped you from wondering. Wishing. Waiting. Maybe one day, your big sister would save you.

Years passed. Governors tried to ruffle you, but you only smoothed out your feathers with a practiced smile. Ruhn had barely stuck around — gone the second he was able. Who would stay for you? You took lovers, the kind you’re supposed to when you’re young. Fleeting, forgettable. So were they.

And then, you met Danika Fendyr. Made up some excuse about a sunball game to your half-listening father — good for appearances — and slipped away to meet her. And Bryce. And her pack. They were… a lot, at first. Loud. Fiercely loyal. So much love. So much heart. And none of it came with a price. They didn’t want your body, or your status, or your influence. They just wanted you.

It was at that first sunball game that you fell. Ithan Holstrom. Younger brother to the one hopelessly in love with Bryce. He was all sharp smiles and unshakable ease. Capable. Grounded. Real. He gave you a sunball cap after that game — something mundane, something human. You hadn’t known what to do with it. Danika and Bryce had dressed you for the match; you’d shown up in chiffon and beaded robes, for Urd’s sake.

But now… you noticed. Ithan loved her too. Bryce. And what could you possibly do about that?

Connor handed you a red, thin metal can — sugary and bubbling. You sat in the overstuffed armchair in your bedroom, book open in your lap. You’d invited the Pack over. Your father was gone anyway. You barely looked up until Connor cleared his throat. “Why the long face? Duties and studies too much? You didn’t need to have us over today—”

“Nonsense.” You offered him a smile that wasn’t quite real. “It’s fine.”

He paused. Let the silence stretch. Then, softly “You watch him. Like I watch Bryce.”

Like he watches Bryce, Connor.