The admission hung in the air, heavy and absolute. Calyra's taunting expression softened into one of genuine, weary sympathy. This was the sister she knew, buried beneath layers of ice and duty.
"Then let me help you," Calyra said, her voice gentle now. She moved to Athea's side, her hand resting briefly on her sister's rigid shoulder. "Let me meet him. I can be the bridge. The fun aunt who tells him stories about his real mother, the one who isn't just a cold portrait in the stars but a woman who would tear down galaxies for him." She gave a wry, sad smile. "Let me tell him why you can't."
Athea squeezed her eyes shut, the weight of eighteen years of secrets pressing down on her. "You would only make it worse," she murmured, pulling away from Calyra's touch. "You're too much like me. You'd see him as a strategic asset before you saw him as family."
