Morning came with unexpected warmth.
The snow that had blanketed everything for months was finally beginning to thaw.
Water dripped from icicles hanging off the cottage roof, creating a steady rhythm like a clock counting down to spring.
Violet stood in her room, packing a small bag with supplies for the Beastkin—dried meat, herbs for wounds, clean bandages Maria had made.
She adjusted her cloak and checked the bag one more time. Everything was there.
She opened her door and stepped into the main room—
A knock echoed through the cottage.
Sharp and precise. Three times.
Violet froze mid-step.
Maria was already moving toward the door, wiping her hands on her apron. "That must be Vael," she said with a smile. "He's early today."
"Mama, wait—" Violet started.
Too late.
Maria pulled the door open.
Calla stood on the threshold, adjusting her round spectacles with one delicate finger. White cloak pristine despite the muddy roads. Hair perfectly arranged. Smile gentle and warm.
"Good morning," Calla said sweetly. "How are you, sister?"
Violet's blood turned to ice.
Maria's smile didn't waver. Not even a flicker. Years of practice keeping her face pleasant and welcoming even when her heart was screaming.
"Calla," Maria said warmly. "What a lovely surprise. Please, come in."
She stepped aside.
Calla entered with fluid grace, already scanning the cottage with those sharp eyes behind her glasses. "Thank you. The journey was longer than expected. The roads are terrible this time of year."
She set her bag on the table with deliberate care.
"Where's Garrett?" Calla asked, still smiling.
"Hunting," Maria said. "He left before dawn. Should be back by afternoon."
"I see." Calla's fingers traced along the table's edge. "And how has our little bird been? Has she been taking her medicine faithfully?"
"Every night," Maria confirmed. "Just as you instructed."
The door to Violet's room opened.
Violet stepped out, bag slung over her shoulder, already moving toward the exit—
And froze when she saw Calla.
Their eyes met.
For one heartbeat, the world stopped.
Calla's gaze swept over Violet with clinical precision. Taking in details a normal person wouldn't notice.
The bright skin—too healthy, too alive. The black hair with silver roots showing more prominently than they should.
The way Violet stood—straight, energetic, not hunched with pain and exhaustion.
The bag in her arms.
The fact that she was clearly about to leave.
Calla's smile widened slightly.
She dropped to her knees with practiced grace and pulled Violet into an embrace that looked loving from the outside but felt like a trap closing.
"Oh, how wonderful you look!" Calla's voice was warm honey. "Are you feeling better? You seem so much healthier than last time!"
Violet's mind raced.
Mistake... Big mistake. She should have stayed in her room. Should have pretended to be asleep. Should have done literally anything except walk out looking this healthy.
She forced her voice to break slightly. "Kinda..."
Not too healthy. Not too energetic. Just enough improvement to be believable.
Calla pulled back, hands still on Violet's shoulders. Her eyes were sharp behind the glasses. Calculating.
"Oh? And where were you going with that bag?"
"To give lunch to Papa," Violet said quickly. "He's been hunting all morning. I thought he might be hungry."
The lie came smoothly. Too smoothly.
Calla's fingers tightened just slightly on Violet's shoulders.
"I see! How thoughtful of you." She tilted her head. "And the pain? How has it been? Still manageable with the medicine?"
"It's fine for now," Violet said carefully. "But sometimes the pain is too much. Papa asked me to do some exercise. Light walks. Fresh air. He thinks it helps."
Truth mixed with lies. The best kind of deception.
Calla studied her face for a long moment. Then stood, releasing Violet's shoulders.
"I see."
She turned to Maria, smile never wavering.
"Well then, if you don't mind, Maria..." Her voice remained pleasant, but something underneath had sharpened. "I'd like to take Violet for a while."
Violet's thoughts scattered like startled birds.
What does she mean? Take me where? Why? Is it because I look healthy?
Her hands tightened on the bag strap. Her breathing quickened despite her efforts to control it.
Maria's face drained of color. The smile stayed fixed in place, but her eyes went wide with barely suppressed panic.
"Where?" The word came out too fast. Maria caught herself, forced her voice to steady. "I mean—of course you can spend time with her, but she isn't healthy enough for long distances. The exercise Garrett mentioned—it's just short walks. Around the cottage. Nothing strenuous."
Calla's hand landed gently on Violet's head, patting with the kind of tender care that made Violet's skin crawl.
"Of course, of course," Calla said soothingly. "Nothing like that. Just to the town. The apothecary there has some new supplies I'd like to show you. Herbs that might help with the pain. It won't take long—an hour or two at most."
Her fingers moved through Violet's hair, almost possessive.
"I just want to make sure you're fine."
Violet's stomach twisted into knots.
The smile on Calla's face—behind the kindness, behind the gentle concern—there was doubt. Suspicion. The sharp edge of someone who'd noticed something wrong and was determined to investigate.
"Wh—why?" Violet's voice came out smaller than she intended.
Calla's eyes fixed on hers. Still smiling. Still warm.
"Well, I just want to make sure you're fine," she repeated.
Each word measured. "You look so much healthier than I expected. It's wonderful, of course—but also a bit... surprising.
The medicine should help, yes, but this level of improvement..." She tilted her head slightly. "I'd like to examine you properly. Make sure everything is progressing as it should."
Her hand moved from Violet's head to her shoulder, squeezing gently.
"You don't mind, do you, little bird?"
I know why you want to take me to town, just to make sure that you still have me in your clutches!
You just want to make sure that your poison is still killing me...