Salizar’s POV
“My name is Salizar.”
Dipsi Stone did not look impressed.
That was the first irritation.
She sat above me on a thick branch, bare feet crossed at the ankle, one hand resting loosely beside her hip. Dark hair spilled over one shoulder. The forest around her had gone unnaturally quiet, as though even the insects had decided to listen.
Her brown eyes held mine.
No widening.
No sharp breath.
No surprise.
Only that slow, amused smile.
“Salizar,” she repeated.
The way she said it made the air feel violet.
I tilted Steven’s head.
“You know me.”
“I know enough.”
“Enough to wait for me in a tree?”
“I like trees.”
“Do you?”
“I like having the higher seat.”
Her smile deepened.
“People say more interesting things when they have to look up.”
Something beneath my ribs tightened.
Not mine.
Steven.
The boy had been awake behind the barrier for some time now.
Unable to move.
Unable to speak.
Able to watch.
The moment Dipsi spoke, the pressure inside me sharpened.
Recognition.
Hope.
Interesting.
Her gaze settled on my face.
Then seemed to pass through it.
“There you are,” she murmured.
I stilled.
Her smile did not change.
“Still noisy in there?”
Steven struck the barrier hard enough that my fingers almost twitched.
Almost.
I pressed him back.
“Are you asking after him?”
Dipsi swung one foot beneath the branch.
“I’m noticing him.”
“There is a difference?”
“There usually is.”
“You enjoy saying things like that.”
“I enjoy many things.”
The forest remained hot around us.
Summer dampened Steven’s collar and gathered along his hairline. Behind me lay the training field. Beyond that, the house.
Aqua.
Fang had returned to her.
Good.
One troublesome serpent was enough for an evening.
I looked up at Dipsi.
“Are you here to stop me?”
She blinked slowly.
“Do I look like I’m stopping you?”
“You look like someone who wants to be asked.”
“That too.”
“Answer.”
Purple light flickered faintly behind her brown eyes.
Not anger.
Amusement.
“No.”
I watched her.
“No?”
“No.”
“You know I am not Steven.”
“Yes.”
“You know I am using his body.”
“Yes.”
“You know Aqua does not.”
Dipsi’s smile softened.
Nothing tender entered it.
“My sister knows more than people give her credit for.”
“She does not know this.”
“Not yet.”
Steven remained frantic inside me.
Hoping she would say or do something useful.
I smiled.
“And you intend to leave her ignorant?”
“For now.”
Steven hit the barrier again.
Harder.
Dipsi’s gaze sharpened.
She felt that.
Good.
Let him understand exactly what was happening.
“You could tell her,” I said.
“I could.”
“You could tell Fang.”
“He already knows enough to make himself miserable.”
“He cannot name me to her.”
“No.”
“Then why wait?”
Dipsi looked toward the trees behind me.
Toward the house she could not see from here.
Toward Aqua.
When she looked back, her expression had gone quieter.
“I want to see how well my sister knows her own husband.”
Steven went still.
Only for a heartbeat.
Then the pressure inside me became frantic again.
I laughed under my breath.
“That is your reason?”
“It is the reason you get.”
“You are leaving her with a man wearing her husband’s face because you want to test her.”
Dipsi tipped her head.
“You do love making ugly things sound simple.”
“Is it inaccurate?”
“I said simple. Not inaccurate.”
There.
At least she possessed enough honesty to be interesting.
I stepped closer to the tree.
“Aqua trusts this face.”
Dipsi’s foot stopped swinging.
“I know.”
“She trusts these hands.”
“I know.”
“She sleeps beside this body.”
Her smile disappeared.
The shift was small.
The air changed with it.
There.
A line.
I had found one.
“And yet,” I said, “you remain in your tree.”
“For the moment.”
“Convenient.”
“Necessary.”
“For whom?”
Her smile returned.
“That sounds like another answer you have not earned.”
I held her gaze.
She held mine without effort.
Steven remained frantic inside me.
Hoping.
Begging without sound.
Dipsi slipped from the branch.
She did not jump.
She simply moved, and the air seemed to decide where to place her.
Bare feet touched earth without sound.
Purple light moved once beneath her skin and disappeared.
She straightened.
Tall.
Long-limbed.
Nearly eye to eye with Steven, perhaps even a fraction taller despite the bare feet.
There was something almost unfair about the proportions of her.
Too graceful.
Too symmetrical.
Beauty sharpened into something that looked less human the longer one stared.
A goddess who had learned to smirk.
She stood a few steps away.
Closer now.
“I want to make something clear,” she said.
At last.
Something useful.
I waited.
“Do not mistake my watching for permission.”
I smiled.
“You said you would not stop me.”
“I said I am not stopping you now.”
“Semantics.”
“No.”
Her tone stayed light.
The Aetheris beneath the soil did not.
It pressed through the roots around us.
Old.
Patient.
Listening.
“If you hurt her,” Dipsi continued, “if you force her, or if you push Steven so deep that I can no longer feel him—”
Purple stirred behind her brown eyes.
“—I stop watching.”
The forest seemed to tighten around the words.
“I have not forced her.”
Dipsi looked at me for a long moment.
“No?”
“No.”
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“I ask.”
“You ask while wearing her husband.”
My smile remained.
Hers did not.
“Do not congratulate yourself for borrowing consent under someone else’s name.”
Steven surged.
Hope again.
Anger too.
I drove him down.
Dipsi saw the movement behind my eyes.
“You hear me, don’t you?” she asked softly.
Not me.
Him.
Steven almost broke himself against the barrier.
A pulse caught in my throat.
I corrected it.
Dipsi’s expression shifted.
“There you are.”
“Do not encourage him.”
“Why?” She leaned slightly toward me. “Afraid he might become inconvenient?”
“He already is.”
“Good.”
I stepped closer.
“You enjoy tormenting trapped men?”
Dipsi considered the question with irritating seriousness.
“Depends on the man.”
“You are a peculiar sister.”
“We share blood. Not habits.”
That much was obvious.
Aqua moved like water that had spent too long learning where it was allowed to flow.
Dipsi looked like every wall ever built around her had eventually regretted the attempt.
I folded Steven’s arms.
“What happens when Aqua fails your little test?”
Dipsi’s brows rose.
“I did not say she would.”
“Confidence.”
“Experience.”
“Those are often confused.”
“So are age and wisdom.” Her smile sharpened. “You seem familiar with that problem.”
My mouth thinned.
Her smile widened.
“There. That one touched.”
“You are very pleased with yourself.”
“Frequently.”
I looked at her.
“You truly believe Aqua will see through me.”
Dipsi shrugged one shoulder.
“I believe Aqua knows Steven.”
“You say that like it is profound.”
“It becomes profound when someone else decides he can replace him.”
“I am not replacing him.”
“No?”
“I am using what is available.”
She began walking around me.
Not circling.
Wandering.
As though the conversation belonged to her and I happened to be standing inside it.
“His house,” she said.
“Useful.”
“His name.”
“Useful.”
“His marriage.”
My jaw tightened.
Only slightly.
Dipsi noticed.
She stopped at my side.
“And there.”
“There what?”
“The part you dislike naming.”
“You invent too much.”
“Maybe.”
Her eyes drifted over Steven’s borrowed face.
“You tell yourself you want the body.”
“I do.”
Dipsi resumed walking.
“The strength?”
“Yes.”
“The power?”
“Yes.”
“The freedom?”
“Obviously.”
“All true.”
“Then we agree.”
She stopped in front of me again.
“No.”
I let out a low breath.
“You do enjoy making conversations longer than necessary.”
“You mistake length for difficulty.”
“Then enlighten me.”
Her brown eyes stayed on mine.
“You like being received.”
“By whom?”
The question came too quickly.
Dipsi noticed.
Her smile turned lazy.
“You know.”
“I asked you to say it.”
“Aqua.”
Steven slammed against the barrier.
I kept my expression still.
Dipsi watched me instead of him.
“You like when she softens,” she continued.
“You have not seen us together.”
“I do not need to.”
“No?”
“I can see what happens to you when I say her name.”
I said nothing.
That was answer enough for her.
“I can see what happens when I remind you that she is responding to Steven.”
“That is irritation.”
“Probably.”
“Irritation is not affection.”
“I never called it affection.”
“Then what are you calling it?”
“Interest.”
The word sat between us.
I scoffed.
“I am interested in keeping her calm.”
“Mm.”
“I am interested in maintaining the life I took.”
“Mm.”
“I am interested in removing obstacles.”
Dipsi smiled.
“So efficient.”
“I have always valued efficiency.”
“That is not what the old stories say.”
The turn was abrupt enough that I studied her more carefully.
“What old stories?”
“The ones about you.”
I smiled faintly.
“I am flattered.”
“Do not be.”
She tilted her head.
“I have always wondered how much of them was true.”
“Which part?”
“The beginning.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“The fire.”
Ah.
So that was where her curiosity had been hiding.
I said nothing.
Dipsi took another slow step.
“They say Salvatore fire did not begin as something inherited.”
“No.”
“They say it began with you.”
“Mostly.”
“And that you wanted power badly enough to bargain for it.”
My smile thinned.
“History becomes vulgar when repeated by people who were not there.”
“With a demon?”
There it was.
Direct at last.
I looked at her.
She waited.
I could have lied.
There was little point.
“Yes.”
Her expression did not change.
“What did it want?”
“Human lives.”
Steven recoiled inside me.
Dipsi did not.
Her eyes only became more attentive.
“And you agreed.”
“I wanted the fire.”
“That badly?”
“You speak like power is something one is supposed to apologize for wanting.”
“I did not ask for an apology.”
“You implied judgment.”
“I implied curiosity.”
“You hide it well.”
“I practice.”
Her smile returned.
“So the stories were true.”
“Some.”
“And afterward, you gave the fire to loyal followers.”
I raised a brow.
“You have done your reading.”
“Bits of it.”
“They served me.”
“They helped you rain mayhem on humans.”
“They were loyal.”
“That was not a denial.”
“It was not meant to be.”
For once, Dipsi looked genuinely interested rather than merely entertained.
Her eyes moved over me as though rearranging an old puzzle.
“So that was you before the sealing.”
“Yes.”
“Hungry enough for power to feed strangers to a demon.”
“Careful.”
Her smile came back.
“There. Another one.”
“You are developing an unhealthy fondness for touching nerves.”
“I like knowing where they are.”
“You mistake knowledge for control.”
“And you mistake control for safety.”
I went still.
She stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Not retreating.
“Is that what you are doing with Steven?” she asked. “Improving the boy because control makes you more comfortable?”
I laughed once.
“That is not why.”
“No?”
“No.”
Dipsi watched me.
“You could have worn him quietly.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“You could have copied his habits, kept your head down, and taken the life without changing the shape of it.”
“I am doing exactly that.”
“No.”
Her brown eyes held mine.
“You are correcting him.”
I smiled.
“At least someone noticed.”
Dipsi’s mouth twitched.
“That was not praise.”
“He apologizes for breathing.”
She folded her arms.
“He worries.”
“He doubts.”
Dipsi gave a small shrug.
“He is young.”
“He treats every instinct like evidence against himself.”
“And that offends you.”
“It wastes what he is.”
Dipsi’s expression went still.
I continued before she could interrupt.
“He fears hunger. Want. Anger. Power. He behaves as though having an instinct is already halfway to committing the crime.”
“You noticed all of that from inside him.”
“He makes it difficult not to.”
“And your solution?”
“Control.”
Dipsi shook her head.
“No.”
I narrowed my eyes.
She lifted one finger.
“Control is knowing what you are capable of and choosing what you do with it.”
Then another.
“What you are doing is polish.”
“People prefer polish.”
“For a while.”
“You disagree?”
“I think my sister married the man whose mess she already knew.”
Something sharp moved through me.
“Then perhaps she lacks imagination.”
Dipsi’s smile returned.
“Or perhaps you do.”
I stepped closer.
She did not move.
Eye to eye now.
Almost.
“Explain.”
Dipsi looked at Steven’s face for a moment.
Then back into my eyes.
“She did not choose him because he performs husband well.”
“To you, perhaps.”
“To anyone with eyes.”
“You would be surprised how many people lack those.”
“I am beginning to understand.”
Her tone stayed light.
Then softened.
“She chose Steven because he is Steven.”
“A distinction without usefulness.”
Dipsi stared at me.
Then exhaled through her nose.
“That must be exhausting.”
“What?”
“Needing usefulness to explain why something matters.”
I said nothing.
She looked almost thoughtful.
“You wanted fire because it was useful.”
“Power is useful.”
“You shared it with men who were useful.”
“They were loyal.”
“You took Steven’s body because it is useful.”
“It is.”
“And now you are trying to become a more useful husband than he is.”
The insult hid beneath the observation.
I saw it.
“So?”
Dipsi’s smile turned faint.
“My sister has never been very good at loving people because they are useful.”
Aqua.
Useful.
Something about the word scraped against things I had observed through Steven.
Aqua cooking.
Aqua helping.
Aqua giving.
Aqua trying to make herself necessary every time someone she loved hurt.
Interesting.
Dipsi saw the thought pass.
Her smile faded.
“Do not use that against her.”
I looked at her.
“Use what?”
“You know exactly what.”
Perhaps I did.
Perhaps not enough.
I smiled anyway.
“You are protective when it suits you.”
“I am protective when it matters.”
“And apparently this does not.”
Her face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
“You are beginning to confuse patience with indifference.”
“Then educate me.”
“I already told you the line.”
“Force.”
“Yes.”
“Harm.”
“Yes.”
“Steven disappearing beyond your ability to feel him.”
“Yes.”
“And before that?”
Dipsi’s expression became unreadable.
“I watch.”
Steven crashed against the barrier again.
Anger now.
Not hope.
Good.
The boy was learning.
I smiled.
“You realize how cruel that sounds.”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
That stopped me for half a beat.
Dipsi did not defend herself.
Did not soften the word.
Only stood there.
“Yes.”
Interesting.
“You see him trapped,” I said, “and still you wait.”
“Yes.”
Steven’s rage sharpened inside me.
Dipsi’s eyes flicked through mine.
She felt it.
“You hear that?” I asked. “He does not appreciate your philosophy.”
“I did not expect him to.”
“You are using Aqua as a test.”
That one reached her.
Only slightly.
Dipsi’s gaze cooled.
“No.”
“No?”
“My sister is not a test subject.”
“Then what would you call this?”
Dipsi looked toward the distant house again.
When she spoke, her voice had gone quieter.
“I want to see how well she knows her husband.”
“That sounds remarkably like a test.”
“Call it what you like.”
“Steven already has.”
Her eyes returned to mine.
Purple touched their edges.
Not enough to overtake the brown.
“He can be angry with me.”
Steven surged at that.
“He is.”
“I know.”
“You sound comfortable with it.”
“I am.”
For the first time, there was no humor in her at all.
“If Steven hates me when this is over, he is allowed.”
The boy inside me went still.
I watched her.
“Remarkably generous.”
Dipsi’s mouth twitched.
“I am not asking him to forgive me.”
That was more interesting than I expected.
Before I could answer, her gaze shifted through mine again.
To him.
“You hear me, don’t you?”
Steven hit the barrier.
Yes.
Desperate.
Furious.
I forced the body still.
Dipsi stepped closer.
“I see you.”
Steven nearly broke.
Hope and rage struck together.
I felt both.
Dipsi did nothing else.
No spell.
No rescue.
No hand reaching toward us.
Nothing.
Steven’s hope curdled.
His anger did not.
“You are cruel,” I said.
Dipsi’s expression quieted.
“Yes.”
Again.
No defense.
No excuse.
Steven’s fury burned hotter.
“Then why tell him you see him?”
Dipsi did not look away from him.
“Because being trapped is bad enough.”
Her voice softened.
“Believing no one can see you is worse.”
Steven went painfully still.
I disliked how quickly he grabbed onto the words.
“You could help him.”
“Maybe.”
“You choose not to.”
“For now.”
Steven’s anger struck again.
Harder this time.
Dipsi felt it.
“I know,” she murmured.
The words were for him.
Not comfort.
Acknowledgment.
That seemed to make him angrier.
Good.
I almost smiled.
Dipsi noticed.
“Do not enjoy this too much.”
“Why not?”
“Because one day he gets his mouth back.”
I laughed.
“You are very confident.”
“I usually am.”
“And you think Aqua will be the one who exposes me.”
Dipsi’s smile returned.
“I think Aqua knows Steven.”
“You keep repeating yourself.”
“You keep failing to understand.”
I stared at her.
“And if she recognizes me?”
“Then you find out what comes next.”
“You know what comes next.”
“I know possibilities.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because then you would start performing for the future too.”
I let out a low laugh.
“You think highly of my adaptability.”
“I think you have spent days turning another man’s life into a role.”
“That sounds like admiration.”
“It is not.”
I considered her.
Then asked the question before deciding whether I should.
“If Aqua ever chose me?”
Dipsi’s brows rose.
I hated that immediately.
“Hypothetically.”
“Obviously.”
“If she did.”
Her expression changed.
Too knowing.
The amusement faded.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet.
“If Aqua ever chooses you, Salizar, you will know.”
“How?”
“Because she will be looking at you.”
Her gaze held mine.
“And she will know your name.”
Silence.
Something tightened beneath my ribs.
Steven.
Or me.
I disliked that I could not tell immediately.
Dipsi watched the uncertainty without commenting on it.
“For now,” she continued, “she is looking for her husband.”
“She is looking at me.”
“No.”
Dipsi took one slow step backward.
“She is looking through you.”
The words struck harder than they deserved.
I smiled to hide it.
“You seem very sure of your sister.”
“I am.”
“Then tell her.”
“No.”
Again.
Immediate.
My irritation sharpened.
Dipsi tilted her head.
“I want to see how well she knows her own husband.”
Steven slammed himself against the barrier.
This time, there was no hope in it.
Only fury.
Dipsi’s eyes flashed purple.
“Still,” she said softly.
Not to me.
Steven did not still.
If anything, the anger grew.
Good.
Let him hate her.
Perhaps hatred would finally teach him not to expect rescue.
Dipsi looked through me again.
“I see you.”
Steven’s rage cracked around something more wounded.
“You are not gone.”
The words sank deep.
He held onto them even while hating the person who said them.
Interesting.
Dipsi stepped back.
Violet mist began curling around her ankles.
“So this is it?” I asked.
“For tonight.”
“You watch.”
“Yes.”
“You wait.”
“Yes.”
“You leave your sister to solve the problem.”
Dipsi’s expression sharpened.
“No.”
I raised a brow.
“I leave my sister to know her husband.”
Again.
That maddening distinction.
She began to fade into the violet.
I stepped forward.
“Will you interfere?”
Dipsi smiled.
“I told you where my patience ends.”
“That was not what I asked.”
“It is what you get.”
“Another non-answer.”
“You are learning.”
The mist climbed higher.
Before it swallowed her, she looked once more through Steven’s eyes.
At him.
Not me.
“Be angry,” she said.
Steven surged.
Dipsi’s smile disappeared entirely.
“I would be.”
Then violet swallowed her.
The branch above us moved gently in air that had not stirred.
I stood alone at the boundary line in Steven’s body.
A strange woman.
A strange sister.
A dangerous witness who knew exactly what I was doing and had chosen, for reasons she refused to explain, not to expose me.
Good.
That was the only part that mattered.
Let her watch.
Let Fang worry.
Let Steven rage.
Aqua still saw her husband when she looked at this face.
For now.
I turned toward the house.
Steven moved inside me the moment I took the first step.
Not fear.
Not hope.
Fury.
Dipsi had seen him.
Dipsi knew.
And Dipsi had decided Aqua should discover the truth herself.
I let him keep the anger.
Perhaps it would exhaust him.
---
Steven’s POV
Dipsi knew.
That was the first thing.
The second was worse.
She knew—
and she left.
I could not stop thinking it.
Dipsi knew.
She looked straight through my eyes and saw me behind them.
Not Salizar.
Me.
She saw the barrier.
Saw me trapped behind it.
Felt me fighting.
And then she stood there talking to him like they had all the time in the world.
No.
Anger hit harder than the barrier.
Dipsi, what the hell are you doing?
You know.
You know it is not me.
Tell Aqua.
Go to the house.
Do something.
Anything.
Nothing moved.
Not my hands.
Not my mouth.
Not my breathing.
Salizar walked with my body as if Dipsi had not just looked at me and made a choice.
Her choice.
Not mine.
Not Aqua’s.
Hers.
I want to see how well my sister knows her own husband.
The sentence made me furious all over again.
Was that supposed to make this better?
Aqua was not a test.
Our marriage was not a test.
How well she knew me was not something Dipsi got to measure by leaving her alone with someone pretending to be me.
What if Aqua did not figure it out?
What if Salizar got better at it?
What if he hurt her before she understood?
What if she blamed herself afterward because she had not known fast enough?
Dipsi had stood there and decided that risk belonged to Aqua.
I hated her for that.
Maybe she had reasons.
Dipsi always had reasons.
Aqua would probably say that later.
That is just Dipsi.
She sees things differently.
She usually has a reason for what she does.
I did not care.
Not then.
Maybe not ever.
Reasons did not make Aqua less vulnerable.
Reasons did not give me my body back.
Reasons did not change the fact that Dipsi could have walked into that house and said one sentence.
That is Salizar.
Instead, she wanted to see whether my wife knew me well enough to save herself.
No.
I was not forgiving that because Dipsi smiled strangely and talked like every horrible decision belonged to some bigger picture.
Then another sentence came back.
I see you.
That one hurt differently.
Because I had needed it.
I hated that I had needed it.
For days, I had been trapped behind my own eyes wondering whether Salizar could keep pushing until I became nothing more than something he occasionally heard scratching at the walls.
Dipsi looked at me and knew I was still there.
Then she told me.
You are not gone.
I clung to the words even while I hated her.
That almost made me angrier.
She gave me exactly enough hope to keep me awake and left me there anyway.
And she knew I was angry.
Be angry.
I would.
Gladly.
The path opened ahead through the trees.
My house glowed faintly beyond them.
Aqua was there.
Waiting for a husband who was not coming back through the door.
Not yet.
Salizar knew my life because he had lived inside it with me.
He had been there while Aqua and I grew closer.
He had heard our conversations.
Seen our arguments.
Watched the way she took her tea, where she sat, how she looked when she was tired, what made her laugh.
He knew the things he had witnessed.
That was already too much.
But he did not have my mind.
He did not have every memory I had ever made.
He did not know everything that existed between Aqua and me before he started watching.
And even the things he had seen—
he had seen them from the wrong side.
He could copy the neck rubbing.
The worrying.
The jokes.
The way I reached for her hand.
But he had not felt what I felt when I did those things.
Dipsi was counting on that.
I was still furious with her.
But I understood the one thing she believed.
Aqua knew me.
Better than anyone.
She knew when I was lying badly.
Knew when I was frightened before I admitted it.
Knew the difference between me being quiet and me disappearing into myself.
She noticed changes in me I did not realize I had made until she pointed them out.
Salizar could imitate what he had watched.
He could polish it.
Improve it.
Make me smoother.
But Aqua had never fallen in love with smooth.
That thought should have comforted me.
Instead, another fear followed it.
What if she liked smooth anyway?
What if some part of her preferred this?
The man who did not panic.
Did not apologize.
Did not need her to keep telling him he was good.
No.
I pushed the thought down.
She did not know.
Whatever she liked right now, she thought it was me.
That mattered.
Dipsi had said something else.
If Aqua ever chooses you, she will know your name.
Salizar had gone quiet at that.
I had felt it.
He wanted something he had not admitted yet.
Maybe he wanted Aqua to look at him and see Salizar.
Maybe that was why pretending to be me was not enough.
Good.
Let it bother him.
Let him learn the difference between being wanted and stealing someone else’s place.
I was still trapped.
Still furious.
Still walking toward my own house without controlling a single step.
But Dipsi had seen me.
Fang suspected him.
And Aqua—
Aqua knew me.
She had to.
I wanted her to look at my face and feel the wrongness before Salizar could smooth it over.
I wanted her to know without Dipsi turning our marriage into some sick little experiment.
I wanted her to find me because she knew me.
Those things could all be true at once.
I could trust Aqua—
and still hate Dipsi for making her prove it.
Salizar kept walking.
I stayed behind the barrier.
Awake.
Watching.
Angry enough to remember every second.
And if I ever got my body back, Dipsi Stone and I were going to have a very long conversation.