The chain rattled when I shifted, metal biting into my wrist hard enough to remind me not to move.

  I kept trying anyway.

  The room was cold. Stone walls, no windows, the dark broken only by a small enchanted lamp sitting over a metal table.

  Clever. Without daylight, I had no idea for how long they had kept me chained to the cold chair. Could have been hours, could have been an entire day.

  I had not recognized the exterior once we arrived and the enforcers escorted me in. It only heightened my sense of unease. It had to be a place where they could hold a Velmire and the Alvane heir without immediate consequences.

  I stared at the dark corner as I played the entire mission in my mind repeatedly.

  The plan had been simple, hadn't it?

  So simple, I had complained a couple of times about having to go over it again and again. Simple enough that Alvane had rolled his eyes when Magister Tulis insisted on another briefing before the big night. So simple, that failure had not felt like a real possibility until the very last moment.

  I twisted the thin chain connecting the cuff to the chair. Too short to break. Too solid to bend. Infused with spells that made the use of magic impossible.

  Technically.

  If the moment required it, I would try anyway.

  I would not go down without a fight.

  It had taken three enforcers to successfully shove me into the back of a large vehicle and two more to get me handcuffed.

  In a night defined by failure and shame, that much I could take pride in.

  If Marcus hadn't panicked—

  I shut the thought before it could spiral.

  If everything had gone as planned—if the informant had been reliable—I would have finished the last line of the counter-runes. Merwood would have gotten inside the study while we kept guard, and by now we would be gone. Clean, untouched. And the one in chains would have been Isaia, not me.

  Instead, I had been dragged into the night like a criminal, my screams and Alvane's curses breaking the silence of the manor, my wrists already aching from the restraints. And someone on the outside of this dark room had the authority to decide whether I walked out freely.

  Or didn't.

  A metallic sound pulled me out of my bitter contemplation.

  The key twisted the lock. Before I had time to adjust on the chair, the door opened and light suddenly flooded the small room. I squinted against the glare, catching only a tall silhouette before the door closed and darkness swallowed us both.

  Neither of us moved, but my heart stuttered against my chest.

  Torture, just like failure, had been a distant, almost impossible occurrence.

  There was no reason for me to believe that was still the case.

  My eyes adjusted to the dark. The man was tall, even for a mage.

  Would he use his size to intimidate me?

  I hoped my glare looked more fierce than my thoughts.

  "You're young," he observed in a smooth baritone. He sounded surprised. "Why would the Wielders send such a young mage to do their dirty work?"

  Mockery? Bait?

  With a scoff, I turned my gaze to a dark corner, on the opposite side. He would not get the satisfaction of a reaction from me.

  My right foot started bouncing in agitation under the table as seconds passed and he didn't move.

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  Then he sighed and walked closer.

  Metal scraped against stone as he pulled a chair back. I flinched despite myself.

  Curiosity got the best of me as I turned to examine him.

  He made the metal chair look like a comfortable sofa, leaning back with infuriating ease.

  Much to my surprise, he was not dressed in the typical enforcer uniform. Just dark pants and dress shirt.

  Under the faint light of the lamp, his face was angular but—much to my annoyance—conventionally attractive. Even though his eyes were hidden by the shadows, I could feel him staring back.

  My eyes searched across his torso and then his fingers. Anything that could give his identity away.

  "You're trying to figure out which family I'm from," he observed. Not a question, not an accusation. "Wondering which traitor bloodline would dare interrogate a Wielder operative."

  He leaned slightly forward, enough to reveal his eyes to me. Warm, light brown. Like honey.

  "I'm Sirius," he stated, as if offering his name to a prisoner was the most natural thing to do in this kind of situation.

  The name sounded vaguely familiar, like I'd heard it somewhere, sometime…

  "And you are…?" He left the question hanging in the air and leaned back. Did he think he had all the time in the world?

  I turned my chin to the left, not taking my eyes away from him in case he changed his mind about his patience.

  "They told me you were caught just outside candidate Isaia's study. Election interference, conspiracy," his tone was conversational. I knew better than to think this less threatening than screaming. "Serious charges. The kind that end in imprisonment, usually."

  A pause. I could feel my stomach tightening with each passing second.

  "But I'm more curious about why someone your age would risk everything for the Wielders's political games. You don't strike me as a fanatic."

  I twisted the thin chain as I pondered whether to answer him. At this point, it seemed harmless enough.

  Distraction—had instructed Magister Tulis—is a good strategy when time is against the enemy.

  "What election interference? There's no conspiracy. Aren't you people becoming too paranoid?" I crossed my legs, hoping to appear at least half as relaxed as he did. "I was trying to take a valuable Grimoire rumored to be in his possession. He's known for hoarding old research." I shrugged. It sounded… improbable, even to my ears. But he was right about something, a burglary sentence was much more lenient than a conspiracy one.

  He leaned into the light once more, one eyebrow perfectly arched. He leaned until his forearms were resting on the table between us.

  When he opened his mouth I sighed and turn. Of course, he had not believed a single word I had just said.

  "And did you manage to find it?" I turned to him in bafflement. He continued, in conspiratorial tone and a light smirk twisting the corner of his lips. "The Grimoire. Did you find it?"

  I was utterly speechless.

  Out of all the answers I had anticipated—anger, threats, accusations—playful curiosity wasn't one of them.

  Sirius… His name danced in the back of my mind. Where had I heard it before?

  I swallowed, noticing how dry my throat was after hours without water.

  "No," I answered bitterly. He had no idea how close I had gotten to my objective.

  He studied me for a few more seconds. His golden eyes upon me where making me shiver.

  I sighed.

  "Are you the one that's supposed to torture the information out of me? Or are you here to lead me to a false sense of security until he gets here?"

  Magister Tulis had briefly shared his one experience when being interrogated. It was nothing like this. This man, Sirius, was behaving almost friendly in a way that—

  "Wait. Sirius… as in the star?" I asked before I could stop myself.

  It was his turn to be taken aback. I allowed myself to gloat for a second.

  "Ah, it's two stars, actually." My gaze dropped by its own accord to the soft smile on his lips.

  "Yes, of course! So is my—" My eyes widened as I cursed my tongue. One of my hands raised to cover my mouth in dismay, only to be stopped by the handcuffs. Unbelievable! I diverted my eyes in embarrassment. All the training, months of honing my skills… for nothing.

  I heard him shifting in the chair.

  "So is your…?" I refused to let my mouth embarrass me further. "It's not a common thing anymore, you know. Being named after stars. Most mage families these days prefer more… traditional names. Names that carry meaning."

  "It carries…" I whispered. For a heartbeat, I could feel the emotion I used to feel as a child when my mother would tell me about the meaning of my name. My name was the only thing I had left from my mother. That, and some hazy but precious memories.

  I sighed, berating myself for falling for whatever trick he was pulling. But above all, I hated how weak that had come out. "It carries meaning," I managed to say in a firm voice.

  "I agree. I find astronomy fascinating. Binary stars, in particular, are such an interesting phenomenon. How two stars orbit each other, bound by gravity. They affect each other's evolution, their brightness. Some are so close they can't exist without the other," he trailed off.

  I could only stare at him. Almost forgetting to blink.

  "What's your name?" He asked again. This time, I could have sworn it was a genuine question, soft and careful, not an interrogation.

  My jaw tightened. I shouldn't. Every bit of training screamed at me not to. But those curious ember eyes held mine, patient and oddly open, and so I hesitated.

  Oh well, he most likely already knew who I was anyway. My family was well known across the capital. Across the entire nation, even.

  If he had not been informed yet, they'd probably find my identity soon enough anyways.

  "Alya." He had not provided a family name, and neither would I.

  His eyes widened slightly, just before they focused on the table. His brows lowering in thought.

  When he raised his eyes again, I noticed something like recognition in them. An old newspaper article? An event I had attended? No, I would have remembered him if we had met before.

  "Alya," he repeated, barely above a whisper. "Like Theta Serpentis. Or Beta Lyrae," he mused. He seemed almost excited, like a child completing a puzzle. A breath of laughter escaped me before I could stop it.

  He actually knew the astronomical reference!

  "Beta Lyrae. An eclipsing binary system."

  He nodded like it made sense.

  "My parents named me after the Dog Star. They said it was fitting- brightest star in the night sky, loyal, constant," he paused. "Though technically, as you pointed out, it's a binary system. Sirius A and Sirius B, orbiting each other every fifty years."

  "Sirius B is a white dwarf" I heard myself say. My muscles, unconsciously , had relaxed until I, too, was resting back on the chair. The biting cold of the metal not affecting me as much as I thought it would. "Collapsing star. Dense."

  "Heavy," he agreed with a solemn nod. "Pulling on its companion, affecting its light. Making it seem like it's twinkling."

  A few heartbeats passed. The room felt less cold, less oppressive.

  "Why are you telling me this? Aren't you supposed to be interrogating me?" Maybe he was as new at interrogating as I was at being interrogated.

  "I am" he said simply. "Just not the way you probably expected." I felt an absurd tinge of betrayal.