The news of my latest hypnosis session had already spread through the palace by the time Sinclair and I emerged from our rooms. Thankfully, the details of my teenage despair remained undisclosed; only the premonition of our potential victory was known. I've understood the importance of giving people hope in this conflict since my early days visiting refugees, but the impact on morale is truly remarkable. The increase in public and political optimism was palpable as we attended the day's scheduled summit events. The Alphas have even agreed to fly to the coast to witness the continental refugee crisis firsthand.

Unfortunately, at least one person wasn't thrilled: my sister. I was dressing for dinner when Cora entered my dressing room, exhaustion dragging at her. She slumped onto the chaise lounge as I tried on gowns, watching with begrudging amusement. "You know," she said, "just once I'd like to come home after a long day of surgeries and not discover that my little sister has accomplished another impossible feat. What's next, Ella? Are you going to grow a tail?"

"I think you'll find I already have," I joked, picturing my wolf wagging its beautiful rose-gold tail in my mind's eye.

"Har har," Cora quipped, rubbing her sore neck. "Come on, then, tell me all about it."

Sighing, I slipped out of the red dress, which wouldn't fit over my belly, and chose a green one to match Sinclair's eyes. I wasn't eager to dwell on the subject, but if she were to hear the story, it should be from me. I gradually shared the details, pausing and restarting as emotions overwhelmed me, using my wardrobe dilemmas as excuses to delay the inevitable. It was a relief when I finally finished. "So, it turns out those priests weren't all bad," I concluded. "For everything they put me through, they also kept me going when I was ready to give up." I looked at Cora for the first time since I'd started talking and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. "You never told me," she said hoarsely, and I felt a gut punch. I guiltily searched her face, hating the pain in her deep brown eyes. There was a flash of betrayal, but also a deep hurt I understood all too well.

"I didn't even remember myself," I whispered. "I never wanted to leave you, Cora. You and the other kids were the only things keeping me going."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked, bitterness lacing her melodic voice. "You only got that low because you were bearing the brunt of the hardship for all of us, and now you say we're also the reason you couldn't find peace."

"Because of how much I loved you," I pleaded, sitting beside her. "And it wouldn't have been true peace, because I'd have known I was leaving so much pain behind for the people I cared about most. I would have missed out on my future—seeing you become a doctor, finding my own passion, meeting Sinclair… having this baby, waking my wolf."

"I understand that," Cora replied stiffly. "And I understand why you couldn't confide in me then, when you were in the thick of it, but I never knew you got depressed at all. You always seemed to have it together."

Wincing, I rested my hand on her arm, gently stroking her skin. "I think you're rewriting history a bit… you're the one who always cautioned me not to bottle things up, to deal with our past."

"Yes, once we were adults and I realized that the only way you could have stayed so composed was to repress everything," Cora explained with frustration. "It took a lot of therapy for me to reach that point—when we were children, I truly thought you weren't fazed by any of it. It made me feel even weaker."

"I'm sorry," I said earnestly. "I never wanted you to feel that way, and I hope you know that I was the weak one for avoiding my pain."

"Oh, don't say that," Cora grumbled, typically contrary. "You were in survival mode. It's not your fault you never felt safe enough to come out of it." An unidentifiable emotion flickered across her features. "Besides, you've been the emotionally brave one lately."

"Oh?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "I don't suppose you're referring to a certain wolf with a sly smile and bedroom eyes?"

Cora glared at me. "You know smug really isn't a good look on you."

"I'm not trying to be smug," I replied apologetically, leaning my shoulder against hers. "I've just never seen you like this."

"Like what? Annoyed?" Cora retorted. I wondered if she was being intentionally contrary or if her emotions were so tangled she didn't realize she was contradicting herself. "At my wit's end over how to shake him off?"

"Cora, you obviously like him," I said exasperatedly. "Scowl at me all you like, I'd have to be blind not to notice. The reason you can't shake him off is because you don't really want to, and you can't lie to a wolf about your feelings. He's not going to give up when you're obviously denying yourself something you need."

"I'm so tired of that nonsense," Cora lashed out, rising from the chaise. "So I find him attractive—maybe I even care about his well-being. That doesn't mean I want a relationship. It doesn't give him the right to overrule my decision."

I observed her, trying to formulate the right response. The women in my life seemed uniquely scarred when it came to love, and it broke my heart to see brilliant women like Cora and Isabel so skittish of being hurt. "How do you know you don't want a relationship when you've never been in one—never even attempted to form that kind of connection with a lover?"

"It's not Brussels sprouts, I don't need to try it to know I won't like it," Cora snapped, crossing her arms. "I'm not like you, Ella. I don't need a partner to feel complete. I love myself exactly as I am."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, ignoring her comment. "But I'm curious, if you don't want anything more, why did you say you haven't been brave lately?" Cora froze. I pressed, "Did all that therapy ever address why you don't let anyone get close to you?"

"It addressed the fact that I have legitimate reasons to fear intimacy," Cora replied stiffly, neatly avoiding my question. "And I also have legitimate reasons to distrust Roger, in case you've forgotten."

My patience ran thin. "You should have been a lawyer," I remarked dryly. "You started this conversation, big sister, not me. You obviously want to talk about it, and it's frankly annoying that you're being so stubborn and evasive. You say you aren't brave, you say you have reasons to be afraid… so at least do us both the courtesy of being honest about what you want."

Cora's lower lip quivered. "I want to know what it feels like to love and be loved in return," she answered, staring at her feet. "But I don't want to risk having my heart broken."

"Then you will never know," I said gently. "You can't experience real love if you don't ever let yourself fall, Cora. There is no reward without first taking a risk."

"Well, that's just stupid!" Cora exclaimed indignantly, pacing. "Why should I have to expose myself to harm in order to be happy?" She didn't give me time to respond, nor did she acknowledge her contradiction. "This entire thing is messing with my head; maybe I don't even like him and I'm just confused because of everything else that's going on," she mused. "In fact, now that I say it, I know that's right." She nodded. "This trip will be a good thing—I need some time away to clear my head, to get Roger out of my system."

My eyes rolled, but a knock sounded at the door. "Come in!" I called, scenting my father-in-law.

Henry wheeled in, grinning. He looked so much like Sinclair my heart ached. "I think I've found your mother."