The room felt smaller than it was.
Not physically. The walls hadn't moved. The ceiling was still high, the window still open to the quiet stretch of trees beyond the Sanctuary grounds. Nothing had changed.
Except the air.
Mia stood near the edge of the bed, arms loosely crossed, weight shifted onto one leg like she didn't fully trust the ground beneath her. She wasn't looking at any of them directly. Not really.
She was… aware.
Of all of them.
Octave leaned against the far wall, half in shadow, like he had chosen a position that allowed him to see everything without being seen in return. His posture was relaxed. Too relaxed. One ankle crossed over the other, hands loose, expression unreadable.
But his eyes were sharp.
Locked on her.
He had been watching her for several seconds now without speaking. Measuring. Not her movements—those were easy. Something else.
Pattern. Rhythm. Inconsistency.
He tilted his head slightly.
"You're not where you were yesterday."
It wasn't a question.
Mia's gaze flickered toward him, just for a second. Enough to register the words. Not enough to engage.
"Neither are you," she replied.
Flat. Clean. Dismissive.
Octave's mouth almost curved. Not quite a smile. More like recognition.
She doesn't see me, he thought.
Not yet.
Across the room, Aglaë sat on the edge of a chair that seemed too large for her. Hands resting on her knees, fingers intertwined so tightly the knuckles had gone pale. She hadn't spoken since she walked in.
She didn't need to.
Her eyes were on Mia the entire time.
Wide. Bright. Almost—
Too much.
There was no calculation in it. No restraint. Just something raw and open and completely unfiltered. Admiration, yes. But deeper than that. Something closer to relief. To finding something she had been looking for without knowing what it was.
Mia felt it.
Of course she did.
It pressed against her like warmth she didn't know how to accept.
Her shoulders tensed, almost imperceptibly.
Aglaë noticed anyway.
"Are you… okay?" she asked softly.
The question landed wrong.
Not invasive. Not aggressive.
Just—
Too close.
Mia's jaw tightened.
"I'm fine."
Automatic.
Aglaë nodded immediately, as if the answer was enough. As if she had no intention of pushing further. But she didn't look away.
She never did.
Near the window, Ishtar shifted her weight, arms crossed over her chest. She had been silent longer than usual. Unusual enough to be noticed.
Her gaze wasn't soft like Aglaë's.
It wasn't analytical like Octave's either.
It was—
Focused.
On Mia's stance. On the way she held tension in her shoulders. On the micro-adjustments in her balance. On the way her breathing changed when Aglaë spoke. When Octave spoke.
Ishtar stepped closer.
Not much.
Just enough to enter Mia's space without asking permission.
"You're holding back," she said.
No softness. No hesitation.
Mia's eyes snapped to her this time.
"From what?"
Ishtar didn't answer immediately. She watched her. Really watched her. Like she was looking for something under the surface instead of reacting to what was visible.
"From hitting something," she said finally.
A beat.
"Or someone."
Silence settled.
Thicker now.
Octave's gaze shifted between them, interest sharpening.
Aglaë's fingers tightened again.
Mia didn't move.
But something in her posture changed. A fraction. A shift in weight that didn't belong to conscious control.
Ishtar saw it.
Of course she did.
Her lips curved slightly. Not a smile. Something more instinctive. Recognition.
"There it is," she murmured.
Mia's pulse picked up.
Not from fear.
From something else.
Something she didn't like.
She exhaled slowly, forcing her body back into stillness.
"I didn't ask for analysis."
Octave let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.
"You don't have to," he said. "You broadcast."
Mia turned toward him again, sharper this time.
"I don't."
"You do."
No aggression. No challenge. Just certainty.
He pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps forward. Not invading her space. Not yet. Just enough to change the geometry of the room.
"You think you're contained," he continued. "You're not. You're… layered. And some of those layers are louder than you think."
Mia held his gaze for a second longer than before.
Something flickered.
Not understanding.
Recognition.
Then it was gone.
"Good for you," she said. "You figured out I'm not simple."
Octave's expression didn't change.
"I figured out you're not alone," he replied.
That one landed.
A pause.
Small.
Sharp.
Aglaë looked between them, confused but alert, like she felt the shift without fully understanding it.
Ishtar didn't move.
Her attention had narrowed.
Not on the conversation anymore.
On Mia.
On the subtle changes that kept slipping through the cracks.
The room felt warmer.
Or maybe that was just Mia's skin.
She became aware of it suddenly.
Her own body.
The way her breath sat lower than it should.
The way her muscles held tension that didn't belong to the moment.
The way the silence didn't feel empty anymore.
It felt—
Charged.
She didn't like that.
She straightened slightly, as if posture alone could reset whatever was happening under the surface.
"We're not here to psychoanalyze me," she said. "Aster wanted—"
"Aster's not here," Ishtar cut in.
Another step closer.
Now she was inside Mia's space.
Not touching.
Not yet.
But close enough that the distance mattered.
Mia didn't step back.
She should have.
Instead, she held her ground.
Something in her spine aligned. Not defensive. Not exactly.
Ready.
Ishtar's eyes dropped, just for a fraction of a second, to Mia's hands. Then back up to her face.
"You feel it too," she said quietly.
Not a question.
Mia's throat tightened.
"No."
Too fast.
Too clean.
Too false.
Octave noticed.
Aglaë felt it.
Ishtar smiled this time.
Slow.
Predatory.
"Right," she said.
And for the first time since they had entered the room—
Mia wasn't sure which part of her was answering.