The halls of Everclear Estate felt impossibly large without her father’s footsteps filling them. Sina moved through the morning light like a ghost in her own home, fingers brushing the carved banister he used to steady himself on during his last, fevered days. The air still smelled faintly of the tonics the physicians had brewed—bitter herbs, boiled citrus, and the sharp sting of failure.

She paused at the landing, drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The servants had been instructed to give her space, but their pity clung to her like fog. Grand Duchess Everclear. The title sat awkwardly on her tongue, too heavy, too public, too exposed. She had spent her life in the quiet corners of these walls, tucked away from prying eyes, from the world that would devour her if it knew what she carried in her blood.

Her palms tingled again—warm, pulsing, alive. The magic always stirred when she was frightened, and she had been frightened for days now. Weeks, if she were honest. Her father’s sudden illness had been too sudden. Too precise. Too convenient.

Demons walked the earth wearing human faces. Her father had warned her since childhood, his voice stern but trembling with love: They will come for you, little star. They always come for the light.

Sina swallowed hard and stepped into his study. Sunlight spilled across the room, catching dust motes in a slow, drifting dance. His chair remained pulled out, as if he might return at any moment. A sealed letter lay atop the desk—her name written in his steady hand.

Her breath hitched. She reached for it, fingers trembling.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

Sina froze, magic prickling beneath her skin like a rising storm.