6. Clarissa
CLARISSA
W hen Cassandra joins us in the library’s parlor, sinking into the plush armchair with a heavy sigh, I immediately sense something’s wrong.
The exhaustion that emanates from her goes beyond ordinary pregnancy fatigue—there’s a tension in her shoulders, a wariness in her expression that sets my nerves on edge.
“Seven weeks along, and I already feel like I’ve been pregnant for an eternity,” she admits, her hand resting protectively on her barely there bump.
“I remember the first time I sensed the flutter of life within me,” the Grand Witch begins, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. “It was as if the world had suddenly become more vibrant, more alive.”
Juliette launches into cheerful reminiscences about her own pregnancies. But I find myself studying Cassandra’s face, noting the way her gaze keeps drifting to the windows, as if she’s expecting something—or someone.
“Have you heard from Dristan?” The question slips out before I can stop myself. “Does he know about the baby?”
The room falls silent. Cassandra’s countenance pales, her hand tightening on her stomach. Instantly, I regret my words.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer, mortified. “I shouldn’t have—” I bite my lip, wincing inwardly. Gods, they’ve only just confided this secret to me, and here I am, blurting it out thoughtlessly. How could I be so careless?
“It’s all right,” Cassandra whispers, though her voice trembles. “No, he doesn’t know. And he can’t...” She takes a shaky breath. “As long as I carry Gavriil’s brand, Dristan can never come close to me again. The Ursa King’s magic is too strong.”
The pain in her tone is unmistakable, but beneath it, I detect fear.
Juliette reaches for her hand, voice firm but gentle. “You are never alone, my dear. This family stands with you—always.”
Cassie nods, blinking fast, and Juliette, ever the balm, adds with a wink, “Besides, think of all the babysitters you’ll have. I, for one, fully intend to spoil this little one rotten.”
The mood lightens, laughter bubbling around us. Cassie tilts her head, eyes twinkling. “Speaking of family... someone pulled off a rather extravagant birthday party recently.”
My cheeks hopelessly burn.
Meanwhile, Juliette settles into her seat, pleased. “Nikolaas transformed that ballroom into a dream. Flowers, music, gowns—it was pure magic.”
Cassandra sighs, her gaze distant. “You looked radiant, Clarissa. Like something bloomed in you that night.”
“He did work hard,” I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. “The staff probably needed a week to recover from his constant adjustments.”
Juliette laughs. “Classic Nik. Always perfecting, always giving his best to those he loves.”
“It’s true,” I say, quieter now. “He’s been my anchor these past weeks.”
The Grand Witch smiles warmly. “And you are his pride, Clarissa. I see it in him. We all do.”
“He proved that when he appointed you to lead the Galerie’s philanthropic branch,” Cassie adds.
The moment returns to me like a cherished spell—his belief in me, the way he made me feel seen. “It still feels surreal,” I whisper in silent awe. “That he’d trust me with something so important… What a birthday gift.”
“Not a gift, dearest. You’ve earned it,” Juliette assures me. “With your mind and your heart.”
“And your brilliance,” Cassie chimes in. “Starting university courses at fourteen while still in high school, then finishing your bachelor’s degree by eighteen. You made it look so easy!”
“It wasn’t,” I murmur, my smile faltering. Bram’s voice echoes in my memory—sharp, demanding. You’re a Draken, Clarissa. Anything less than perfection is unacceptable.
I blink, chasing the ghosts away.
“You are so blessed,” Juliette adds, her tone softer. “The bond between siblings—there’s nothing quite like it.”
My lips ease into a practiced smile, but even then, I can’t ignore the shadow that lurks at the edges of our conversation. Bram, my wayward brother, his absence a solid presence in the room. The silence that falls is heavy with unspoken words, with the burden of questions none of us dare to ask.
I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “Has he contacted you?” I venture to say, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “Bram, I mean.”
Juliette looks away, propriety silencing her. But Cassie reaches for me, her touch gentle. “Not yet,” she says softly.
I nod, but the pressure on my chest tightens.
“Wherever he is, I believe he’s safe,” Cassandra adds. “He’ll find his way back to us. I’m sure of it.”
I want to believe her. I want to believe he still remembers the way home.
Cassie’s hand glides over mine, comforting and warm.
My prophetic instincts suddenly flare to life. Images flash through my mind’s eye: Cassandra in an untamed garden, speaking urgently to the shadows. A meeting. A revelation that could shatter alliances…
When the still pictures disappear, I’m left with a shattering, ominous sensation.
I lean forward, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Cassie, what aren’t you telling us?”
Her eyes widen slightly—surprise that I’ve seen through her facade, followed quickly by resignation. “I was wondering when your gift would kick in,” she says with a rueful smile. “Nothing gets past the Draken seer, does it?”
“Not when my family’s in danger,” I reply firmly. “And you are family. So, please tell me—what’s going on?”
Cassandra exchanges a meaningful look with Juliette, some silent communication passing between them. Finally, she sighs. “There’s going to be a meeting. With the Ursa clan. And the Drakens, of course.” She pauses. “I have something I need to tell you all.”
“What kind of something ?” I press, my seer instincts, screaming that this is bigger than family politics.
Before Cassandra can answer, the door swings open.
Samara appears on the threshold, but instead of her usual casual elegance, there’s something almost militant in her posture. She’s not here by accident.
“Samara,” Cassandra says, relief evident in her voice.
“Here you are. I was wondering where everyone had gone,” she utters in a feigned offhand tone.
Her chestnut waves tumble over her shoulders, untouched by the cold. She wears a tailored camel coat over a cream cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, her boots sleek, her gloves fitted.
My emotions tangle. We’ve grown so close since she began seeing Nikolaas—our shared interests, our late-night conversations—but even now, something guarded lingers between us. A quiet tension, like a thread pulled taut, but never quite snapping.
Some of it stems from Cassie. Samara is nothing but polite in her presence, yet there’s a wariness in her gaze—a hesitation she doesn’t bother to conceal.
Her reservations about Gavriil’s engagement are no secret.
She believes his heart still belongs to Luciana, the mate he lost. And Cassie, for all her grace and good intentions, isn’t her.
Not to mention the baby she carries—Dristan Brek’s child.
Oh, the layers of this family drama could fill volumes.
“My darling,” Juliette says, rising from her chair with open arms. “How wonderful to see you! Come, sit with us.”
Cassie straightens. “Actually, I need to speak with Samara—privately.”
Samara steps closer to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “There’s no need for secrecy,” she says, her voice calm but firm. “I trust both Juliette and Clarissa completely.” Her gaze slides toward Juliette, warm with reverence, then back to me.
Cassandra hesitates, then exhales slowly. “Very well.”
Sam slips onto the chair beside her. “What is it? What’s going on?”
Cassie takes a steadying breath, her hands wringing in her lap.
“I wish to extend an invitation to the Ursa clan,” she says, the words rushing out.
“A meeting with Gavriil, Vladimir, and you. The Drakens will be there as well.” She purses her lips.
“There’s an important announcement I must make—something that could change everything between our families. ”
My breath catches in my throat, my heart pounding with a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread. A summit of the most prominent lineages in the supernatural world? What could Cassandra possibly have to say that would require such secrecy, such urgency?
Beside me, Juliette is equally tense.
Sam is nodding slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I’ll talk to my brothers,” she says, resolved. “We’ll be there, Cassandra. Whatever you need, we’ll be there.”
Cassie smiles, a look of relief and gratitude washing over her face. “Dearest Samara,” she adds, reaching out to clasp my friend’s hand. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
Cassandra takes a brief pause, her demeanor shifting to a more serious and vulnerable state.
“We didn’t start off on the best foot, you and I,” she murmurs, her gaze searching Sam’s face for any hint of reaction.
“I understand why you might have had your reservations about me, about my relationship with your brother Gavriil.”
Samara opens her mouth as if to speak, but Cassandra holds up a hand. “Please, let me finish,” she says, and her voice trembles slightly. “I realize my situation is... complicated. My pregnancy and my past have caused difficulties for everyone involved.”
Cassie inhales sharply, her shoulders squared as if bracing herself for whatever response might come.
“But I want you to know that I am committed to this family, to making things work with Gavriil and with all of you. And I’m hoping that after this meeting, after you hear what I have to say.
.. that maybe you’ll be willing to give me a second chance.
To start over and build a real friendship between us. ”
For a moment, Samara is silent, her expression unreadable as she weighs Cassandra’s words. My breath hitches as I wait for her response.
Finally, Sam’s features soften. “I’d like that,” she says quietly, sincerely. “I’ve not been the most welcoming, and I apologize. But you’re right. We’re going to be family soon, and that means we need to find a way to work together, to support each other.”
She reaches out, clasping Cassie’s hand more firmly in her own. “So yes, I’m willing to give this a chance. To give us a chance. And I promise that I’ll come to the meeting with an open mind and an open heart, ready to hear whatever it is you have to say.”
Cassandra’s smile widens, joyful tears sparkling in her eyes. “Thank you, Samara,” she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. “For giving me this chance, for believing in me.”
They embrace then, a fierce, heartfelt hug that seems to go on forever. And as I watch them, as I glimpse the love and acceptance radiating out from them, hope and joy surge through me.
As they part, I catch something shift in Cassandra’s expression—a flicker of quiet resolve layered beneath visible relief.
Samara gives her a nod, soft but steady, then glances my way with a wry tilt of her head. “Well, if we’re all going to be family now, I should warn you—Clarissa has a habit of reorganizing people’s lives. With love. And without permission.”
“Hey!” I protest, laughing despite myself. “I prefer calling it ’caring intervention.’”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Samara grins, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time since she walked in.
And just like that, the room shifts. The heaviness lifts. For a brief, fragile moment, we’re simply three women in a sunlit room, sharing warmth and teasing smiles like something close to ordinary.
These moments—ephemeral, unspectacular—are the ones I’ve learned to treasure most. In our world, peace is fleeting. But this?
This feels like magic.