Page 9 of Wings of Shadow
“He proved that when he appointed you to lead the Galerie’s philanthropic branch,” Cassie adds.
The moment returns to me like a cherished spell—his belief in me, the way he made me feel seen. “It still feels surreal,” I whisper in silent awe. “That he’d trust me with something so important… What a birthday gift.”
“Not a gift, dearest. You’ve earned it,” Juliette assures me. “With your mind and your heart.”
“And your brilliance,” Cassie chimes in. “Starting university courses at fourteen while still in high school, then finishing your bachelor’s degree by eighteen. You made it look so easy!”
“It wasn’t,” I murmur, my smile faltering. Bram’s voice echoes in my memory—sharp, demanding. You’re a Draken, Clarissa. Anything less than perfection is unacceptable.
I blink, chasing the ghosts away.
“You are so blessed,” Juliette adds, her tone softer. “The bond between siblings—there’s nothing quite like it.”
My lips ease into a practiced smile, but even then, I can’t ignore the shadow that lurks at the edges of our conversation. Bram, my wayward brother, his absence a solid presence in the room. The silence that falls is heavy with unspoken words, with the burden of questions none of us dare to ask.
I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “Has he contacted you?” I venture to say, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “Bram, I mean.”
Juliette looks away, propriety silencing her. But Cassie reaches for me, her touch gentle. “Not yet,” she says softly.
I nod, but the pressure on my chest tightens.
“Wherever he is, I believe he’s safe,” Cassandra adds. “He’ll find his way back to us. I’m sure of it.”
I want to believe her. I want to believe he still remembers the way home.
Cassie’s hand glides over mine, comforting and warm.
My prophetic instincts suddenly flare to life. Images flash through my mind’s eye: Cassandra in an untamed garden, speaking urgently to the shadows. A meeting. A revelation that could shatter alliances…
When the still pictures disappear, I’m left with a shattering, ominous sensation.
I lean forward, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Cassie, what aren’t you telling us?”
Her eyes widen slightly—surprise that I’ve seen through her facade, followed quickly by resignation. “I was wondering when your gift would kick in,” she says with a rueful smile. “Nothing gets past the Draken seer, does it?”
“Not when my family’s in danger,” I reply firmly. “And you are family. So, please tell me—what’s going on?”
Cassandra exchanges a meaningful look with Juliette, some silent communication passing between them. Finally, she sighs. “There’s going to be a meeting. With the Ursa clan. And the Drakens, of course.” She pauses. “I have something I need to tell you all.”
“What kind of something?” I press, my seer instincts, screaming that this is bigger than family politics.
Before Cassandra can answer, the door swings open.
Samara appears on the threshold, but instead of her usual casual elegance, there’s something almost militant in her posture. She’s not here by accident.
“Samara,” Cassandra says, relief evident in her voice.
“Here you are. I was wondering where everyone had gone,” she utters in a feigned offhand tone.
Her chestnut waves tumble over her shoulders, untouched by the cold. She wears a tailored camel coat over a cream cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, her boots sleek, her gloves fitted.
My emotions tangle. We’ve grown so close since she began seeing Nikolaas—our shared interests, our late-night conversations—but even now, something guarded lingers between us. A quiet tension, like a thread pulled taut, but never quite snapping.
Some of it stems from Cassie. Samara is nothing but polite in her presence, yet there’s a wariness in her gaze—a hesitation she doesn’t bother to conceal. Her reservations about Gavriil’s engagement are no secret. She believes his heart still belongs to Luciana, the mate he lost. And Cassie, for all her grace and good intentions, isn’t her. Not to mention the baby she carries—Dristan Brek’s child.
Oh, the layers of this family drama could fill volumes.
“My darling,” Juliette says, rising from her chair with open arms. “How wonderful to see you! Come, sit with us.”
