Page 56 of Lone Wolf

“For what?”

“For playing along today. For understanding what I was doing with Katy without me having to explain. For—” She hesitates, then continues, “For not believing the things I said to make it convincing.”

The memory of her coldness during that performance sends a chill through me, even though I know it wasn’t real. “You were pretty convincing.”

“I learned from the best,” she says, and something dark flickers across her face. Then she shakes her head as if to clear it. “I’m so sorry for the things I said. The way I spoke to you.”

“I knew you didn’t mean it.”

Her eyes meet mine, searching. “Did you?”

“Oh, yes,” I say firmly. “I know you now, Ariadne. The real you.”

She swallows, clearly moved by my certainty. “Would you…would you take a walk with me? I’d like to clear my head.”

“Lead the way,” I say, grabbing a hoodie and slipping on my shoes.

We walk in companionable silence through the corridors of the dorms, nodding to the few recruits we pass. News of what happened with Katy has clearly spread—I can see it in the way people look at Ariadne: respect and wariness.

When we step outside, the twilight air is cool but not cold, carrying the scent of dew-dampened grass and the night-blooming flowers of Aurora’s garden as they begin to open. We follow the winding path automatically, neither of us suggesting a destination but both heading for the night garden as if by unspoken agreement.

It’s just peaceful here. The white jasmine glows softly in the dusk, its sweet perfume carried on the gentle breeze. The garden is empty at this hour, everyone else at dinner or occupied with evening tasks.

We find a bench and sit, close but not touching. Ariadne leans forward, elbows on her knees, staring at a point in the middle distance.

“My mother called me Sarah,” she says suddenly. “And for the first time, I didn’t correct her.”

I glance at her, surprised. “Does that mean you’re...?”

“I don’t know. With her, it feels right. With everyone else...” She shakes her head. “I’ve been Ariadne for so long. I’m not sure if I know how to be Sarah again.”

“You don’t have to choose right away. You can be both for a while. Figure it out as you go.”

She nods, considering this. “Maybe.” After a pause, she adds, “I told her about you.”

My heart skips a beat. “Oh? What did you tell her?”

She looks down. “That you’re…important to me. That you see past all the walls I put up.”

“I like what I see when I look past those walls.”

Ariadne turns to face me fully. “Sunny…Hadria told me about your sister. That they found evidence she was…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know what she’s trying to say.

The grief rises in me again, a wave I’ve been fighting to keep at bay since Hadria broke the news. “Yeah,” I manage. “Mari’s gone. Has been for a while.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her hand creeps across the bench to cover mine.

“Me too.” I take a shaky breath. “All this time, I’ve been searching, hoping…and she was already gone. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Will you tell me about her?” Ariadne asks softly. “If it helps,” she adds.

I think it will, and so I do. I tell her about Mari’s laugh, about how she used to sing me to sleep when our parents were fighting. About the way she stood up to our father, even when it meant taking a beating meant for me. About the dreams she had—college, a career, a home with a garden where we could both live in peace.

“She was my whole world,” I say, voice thick with unshed tears. “And when our father sold her, it felt like…like someone had ripped out everything that mattered.”

Ariadne doesn’t offer empty platitudes or meaningless comfort. Instead, she reaches out and pulls me into a tight embrace. Her arms are strong around me, solid and real. I press my face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in, letting her warmth seep into me.

We stay like that for a long moment, holding each other in the quiet of the garden. When we finally pull apart, I feel lighter somehow, as if sharing the weight of my grief has made it more bearable.

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