Ophelia
My suitcase lies open across the bed, half packed and already in disarray.
I move between the closet and the bed, pulling out jumpers, coats, and thick wool scarves, telling myself I’ll keep it light, but the pile only grows more unmanageable.
Winter clothes have their own will, they’re heavy, stubborn things that refuse to be tamed.
We’re meant to leave either this evening or tomorrow morning for our annual Thanksgiving holiday, a tradition that’s lasted for years.
Exams are done, the break has begun, and for the first time in weeks, I can almost pretend to breathe.
Almost.
Every year, without fail, the five of us girls spend the holiday at Adelaide’s chalet in the Swiss mountains.
This year, there will only be four.
A dull ache blooms in my chest as I fold another jumper. Eleanor’s absence hangs over everything, persistent, and impossible to ignore.
No one’s said much about it lately, but we all feel it. She’s still missing, no word or trace of her, nothing to assure us she’s safe.
The tradition began innocently enough, girls’ trips filled with laughter and a sense of freedom.
But beneath all that, it was always more political than sentimental.
Our parents had arranged it in the early years, eager to maintain appearances and strengthen the ties between our families. They were forever pushing us together, believing it would serve their interests one way or another.
After all, allies can still play games. Sending us off together meant keeping the peace, and perhaps, if fortune allowed, overhearing something useful about one another’s affairs.
We knew the game well. And we played it. But despite everything, we never truly betrayed one another.
At least, we didn’t used to.
Now, with the tension brewing, especially between Adelaide and Octavia, I can’t help but feel uneasy.
Once I’ve finished packing, I head to the kitchenette to make myself something simple to eat. I’ve only just picked up the cutlery when a knock sounds at the door. I pause, frowning, I’m not expecting anyone.
Crossing the room, I pull the door open to find Octavia standing there, her expression carefully blank. She steps inside without a word, and I move aside to let her pass.
I’m about to close the door when it’s abruptly pushed open from the other side. My hand tightens on the handle.
“What the hell—?”
Adelaide strides in, and behind her, Piper follows, hesitant and withdrawn, avoiding my eyes entirely.
It’s the first time the four of us have been alone in a room together in months, an uncomfortable sort of silence hanging in the air.
Something in my chest shifts. The familiarity of it, the strange hope it drags with it, even if I know better.
We haven’t spoken as a group in so long, but part of me wonders if we might, one day, manage to find our way back to what we used to be.
Inseparable.
Brutally loyal.
I still care about each and every one of them. I just don’t know if it matters anymore.
They move toward the sitting area, and I close the door behind them before following.
Octavia stands rigid at one end of the room, arms crossed so tightly they might snap. Her pink hair falls in loose waves down her back, vivid against her cream jumper and jeans.
Her gaze is fixed on Adelaide with barely contained loathing.
Adelaide, in contrast, sinks into an armchair, crossing one leg over the other. Her dark curls are swept into a careless bun, and her green eyes gleam with mischief.
I exhale slowly. This is going to unravel quickly.
These two cannot exist in the same space for more than two minutes without conflict, and they’ve proven that far too many times for me to believe today will be different.
Octavia’s voice slices through the air, clipped. “What are you doing here?”
Adelaide’s expression doesn’t waver. “Good to see you too.”
Octavia takes a step forward, her tone turning colder. “I didn’t ask for your sarcasm. I asked why the hell you’re in my sister’s room.”
“I wasn’t aware you were her keeper,” Adelaide replies, her voice smooth. “Or is this another one of your delusional control issues?”
Octavia lets out a low, dangerous laugh. “Oh, you want to talk about control? Let me warn you, mine might just snap… say, right about now, and I’ll be more than happy to rearrange that hair of yours.”
Adelaide merely watches her, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering in her eyes.
“Ah, but since we’re all here…” my sister continues, glancing around the room. “Well, everyone except Eleanor.”
At the mention of Eleanor’s name, I catch a brief crack in Adelaide’s composure, the smallest falter in her poise, but she masks it almost instantly.
“Let’s talk about what you did to us,” Octavia presses, her voice rising. “How you threw everything away like it meant nothing. How you used us—”
Adelaide leans back in her chair, cutting her off. “You never did understand the difference between strategy and betrayal.”
“And you never understood the difference between loyalty and selfishness,” Octavia snaps back, striding forward before I step in quickly, positioning myself between them.
“Octavia, stop,” I say, placing a hand on her arm.
She shrugs me off. “You think I’m going to just stand here while she parades in like nothing happened?”
Adelaide says nothing. But her gaze flickers, barely, toward me.
It’s quick, almost uncertain, but it disappears just as fast.
Piper sinks into the corner of the sofa and exhales, pulling out her phone but not bothering to look at it. She’s there, yet not really, silent, detached, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
“Enough,” I say finally, pressing a hand to my temple. “Both of you need to calm yourselves and attempt some semblance of civility, because soon we’ll be confined together in a house for several days. Whatever grievances linger between you, settle them now.”
Octavia gives a light shrug, her tone flat. “Can’t do that.” There’s the faintest hint of apology in her voice, though her eyes betray not an ounce of it.
Adelaide exhales softly, then turns to her. “Your sister’s right,” she says coolly to Octavia. “We’ll need to manage without bloodshed for the next few days. Let’s call it a truce.”
“A truce?” Octavia repeats, her laugh short and scathing. “No, but thank you for the offer.”
“Look, I understand—”
“See, that’s the problem,” Octavia cuts in, her voice sharp. “You don’t understand. Because if you did, you’d know better than to let the Ferrum Syndicate set foot inside our academy.”
Adelaide gives her a look I can’t quite read, her jaw tightening. “That wasn’t my decision,” she replies evenly. “The Thirteenth Circle’s leader ordered it.”
Octavia lets out a low, incredulous sound, but Adelaide speaks before she can.
“Look, I’ll stay out of your way, and you’ll stay out of mine. I’ll temper my attitude as best I can.”
“Oh, finally something true,” Octavia snaps. “Good. At least we agree, you are a bitch.”
Adelaide almost flinches at the bluntness, but she masks it quickly.
“Octavia,” I warn, giving my sister a pointed look.
“What? She said it first.”
I exhale, forcing patience. “She’s trying to end whatever this feud between you two is.”
“Only for the trip,” Adelaide interjects smoothly.
Octavia huffs. “Ah, and here I was thinking you were finally ready to make peace, and perhaps even ask for forgiveness.”
“I don’t need to ask anyone for forgiveness,” Adelaide replies, her tone cool. “And I care far too little about your tantrums, or whatever it is that’s made you so unhinged.”
“There she is,” Octavia spits, her eyes flashing. “The real Adelaide. What you did broke me… but of course, you couldn’t care less.”
Adelaide’s lips curl into a mocking smile. “You could drop dead and I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t say that,” I warn, glancing between them. “You know that isn’t true.”
Adelaide rolls her eyes. “The pacifist speaks. Life doesn’t work that way, Ophelia. Wake the fuck up.”
She rises, smoothing down her jacket. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. My jet’s prepared, be downstairs at seven sharp.”
She strides to the door, then pauses, turning back to us with a faint, sardonic smile. “Let’s try not to kill each other over the holiday. I’d cancel if I could, but imagine explaining that to our families. So, pretend, coexist, and when we return, you can let it all burn again.”
The door closes behind her with a muted thud. I glance at Octavia and Piper, both silent in their corners, and shake my head.
These next few days, are going to be an exquisite kind of hell.