❝ when she looks into his eyes, she feels the gripping temptation to tell him all her darkest secrets; the names of the men she has killed, but she learned a long time ago that the only people who can keep secrets are resting in overgrown graveyards...
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE CHILD OF THE BLOOD MOON ( iii. )
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Calliope's hands wrap around a steaming cup of aromatic tea. Her eyes are dull and trained on the opposite, paneled wall of the Night Wagon. Everything is quiet, the doors locked and shutters closed. For the first time, the tavern is still, stifle. At the edge of Finley, near the rolling hills, Ezlyn's ashes cover the ground. Just as Calliope's mother's had months prior when she burned on her funeral pyre.
To the assassin's surprise, Sheena was prepared for the loss of her daughter. Ezlyn had left her a note explaining everything—that she probably wouldn't return and not to worry for her. She had made peace with her death and would proudly go to the grave defending one of her closest friends. I should be the one dead, Calliope thinks. I should've died in that mountain, not her. A tear falls onto her cheek, but Calliope barely notices. It's been two days, and she still can't force herself to pull it together or eat or drink anything but this calming tea because she can't stop seeing Sepharin—his smile as she killed him, like this was what he had wanted all along. She fell right into his trap, right where he's been scheming for her to land.
Near the open door, Kazimir stares at the mix of rain and snow drizzling onto a muddy path. Merlin sits at the bar, staring into his own cup of tea. He's washed his hands over and over, but they're still stained with Ezlyn's blood. Neither of them has pressured Calliope to leave Finley yet. She's pretty sure they're waiting on her to decide where she wants to go next. She chews on her lips, trying to force herself to get up and speak. She needs to talk with Kazimir—her father. She needs answers, closure, and an explanation for why he abandoned her, beyond just her safety. Most of all, she needs to figure out how long he's known that she's his daughter.
Standing, the chair beneath her skirts against the floor, causing Kazimir to look over his shoulder.
Merlin clears his throat, grabbing his cup, "I'll just...go somewhere else."
His footsteps retreat out of the tavern and towards the inn, leaving Calliope alone with Kazimir. For a moment, the only sound is the freezing winds and patter of rain against the slated roof.
Calliope walks to the door, choosing to stare outside because that's easier than looking at Kazimir.
"I have something for you," his rough voice startles her, and she glances over as he pulls her necklace out of his pocket and holds it out to her. "Thought you might want it back." Her hand ghosts her bare neck, but she doesn't take it. "Calliope, you need to put it back on soon—"
"How long have you known?" she cuts him off, her icy eyes catching on his silver necklace dangling beneath his gray tunic. He swallows, closing his hand around her necklace. "Did you know when we first met?"
"No," he shakes his head. "Well, there was no way to be sure. I felt this...familiarity with you, but I didn't know who you really were until Sepharin and his assassins captured me while I was on a scouting mission. Once he figured out the dagger was from our bloodline, it didn't take him long to piece the rest together. The sorcerers he consorted with used the blood in the dagger to track down any living relatives of yours, and the spell led him straight to me."
