If Lucia was a zero, V was always a one. If Lucia was the dampener, V was the amplifier. Even their chosen names were opposites. Lucia followed the rules and picked something quaint. V bent the rules, and chose a single letter instead.

  “Has she always been this weak?”

  “Uh… every once in a while she’d have an episode or whatever and faint. She hasn’t had one in forever until this week. This is her second time in the infirmary in a row… You’re one of her recruits, I take it?”

  “That’s right. She’s my mentor.”

  “Good to know. I’d like you to keep an eye on her this season. She’s not doing well.”

  “Obviously.” It was only whispered, but Lucia already knew V had rolled her eyes at Sister Portia’s comment—even with her own eyes squeezed shut on the infirmary bed.

  “I need to step out for a moment. Thank you for staying last night.”

  Lucia heard the older nun leave the infirmary. The door swung shut, the antiseptic air cool against her cheek.

  The infirmary was empty this morning. The windows facing the courtyard filtered the morning light through thick, warped glass. Unlike the stark marble of the ceremonial halls, here the walls were a softer cream, though decades of candlelight had left smoky shadows creeping up toward the ceiling. Row upon row of narrow beds lined both walls, each separated by faded curtains that had once been white but now held a yellowish tinge.

  Footsteps approached her bed. She could feel her sister’s gaze despite pretending to be asleep. Then came a nudge against her hand. She ignored it. Then another one.

  “I know you’re awake,” V said, making her way to the next bed, then taking a seat.

  Lucia held the act for a moment longer. But V would keep staring—she knew that. With a sigh, she immediately rose, sat up on her bed and turned toward V.

  “Woah, slow down there. You passed out for six hours.”

  “I’m fine now, thank you. You should leave.”

  “Leave? To where? We were told to stick with our mentors from the moment we arrived. I’m sticking by mine.”

  Lucia exhaled. A proper conversation with V was harder now than it had ever been.

  She looked at her sister—legs dangling off the edge, swinging carefree, making the metal frame creak in protest. For a moment, she saw young V again. Reckless, head in the clouds, mischief glinting in her eyes. Even now, despite years of separation and growth, she still held that unmistakable spark. But now, that spark spelled danger. And Lucia knew—sparks, left unchecked, burned everything.

  “I’ll press Sister Helen to get a room for you tonight. Promise me you’ll behave?”

  V nodded absentmindedly, lying back on her elbows and humming.

  “You should go now. Sister Portia will be back in fifteen to dismiss me. And we have training starting in an hour.”

  V’s gaze returned to Lucia. Her brow lifted. “So I take it you’ve stopped questioning me then? My reason for arrival?”

  Lucia couldn’t help but glare at V. “No, I’m not giving up if that’s what you are wondering—“

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Strange. As a kid, you always gave up. You eventually let me do as I pleased.”

  “Well, we are not children anymore, are we?”

  ‘Apparently, we shouldn’t even be sisters,” V muttered.

  Lucia shot up from bed, ready to confront her.

  But footsteps outside the infirmary doors interrupted her. She bolted back under the sheets. V too quickly drew the curtains around her bed and hid herself away from view.

  The infirmary doors slammed open.

  “There’s no way. How did no one notice this?”

  A panicking Sister Portia entered. She began shuffling through the medicine racks, glass clinking against glass.

  “We’re still investigating,” came Sister Claudia’s voice, quieter than Lucia ever remembered. “The Mother Superior insisted you hand over the ingredient list and the bottle.”

  Portia fumbled, grabbing a vial, then searching drawers. She handed the vial over saying, “That’s the one. Sister Teresa takes two drops every night.”

  Sister Teresa?...Lucia peeked from under her lashes.

  “And you are certain she requested one last week?”

  “Yes, I should have a record of it here as well.”

  Portia’s voice trembled. This wasn’t normal.

  “Here. Every fortnight she would pick up her new vial.”

  Lucia watched as Portia held up the infirmary log. The two older nuns huddled, whispering too low for her to follow.

  The log of the vial? Sister Teresa’s sleeping draft?…

  Lucia knew Teresa struggled with sleep for years. But why this sudden scrutiny?

  Sister Claudia shifted. Lucia slammed her eyes shut.

  “You mustn't mention any of this to anyone, Portia,” Claudia spoke softly.

  “Obviously. But questions are going to come,” Portia replied. “If we don’t say something soon—”

  “It’s the Mother Superior’s call. Until then, we dispel rumors. No one hears of this—”

  Her voice dipped into silence.

  Lucia didn’t hear anything after that.

  What’s happening?... She thought, fighting the urge to take a peek.

  Suddenly footsteps approached Lucia’s bed.

  “She passed out last night,” Portia said. “Hasn’t woken up yet.”

  Lucia felt the air shift. The assistant head nun hovered over her for a moment before a warm hand touched her cheek.

  Lucia tensed, her calves tightening beneath the blanket.

  “I hope for her sake she’s still asleep,” Claudia said sternly. “Anybody else here?”

  Claudia’s eyes fell to the drawn curtain of the next bed. Lucia’s heart pounded. If Claudia found V, the whole truth could unravel. Claudia was the type that never stopped digging, even when things looked resolved. And getting caught by her for eavesdropping meant she would tear one apart, piece by piece.

  “Her mentee was here earlier,” Portia said. “Probably headed back.”

  Claudia withdrew her hand, stepped around Lucia’s bed, and reached for the curtain.

  Lucia panicked.

  But before Claudia could pull it back, the door burst open again.

  “Sister Loyd,” Claudia snapped. “Do you know how to knock?”

  Sister Loyd, panting heavily, barely managed her words. “The Mother Superior… she’s asking for you. Urgently.”

  Claudia and Portia exchanged a look. Claudia grabbed the vial and papers and rushed out. Portia trailed behind.

  Silence fell.

  Lucia opened her eyes. The room was empty.

  What’s going on with Sister Teresa? With the others?

  Her thoughts swirled. It had been two days since she saw Sister Teresa. And now the senior nuns were acting strange.

  Suddenly the curtain snapped open making Lucia jump.

  V perched on the bed, knee to chin, the other leg swinging.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Lucia snapped.

  V shrugged in return, but her head perked asking, “Who’s Teresa?—”

  “Sister Teresa,” Lucia corrected without thinking.

  But the question lingered, twisting into something else.

  Was Teresa even okay?

  Or was the dread tightening in Lucia’s chest a warning of what was to come?