The Spare

RAE

"She's gone," I said finally. "I'm sorry, Luna Celeste. She's gone."

The sound that came out of her wasn't quite human. It was raw and broken, the sound of a heart tearing in half. She tried to sit up, but I kept pressure on her head wound.

"No," she said. "No, that's not right. She's at school. She's supposed to be safe."

"I am sorry," I said, because I didn't know what else to say.

My father ended the call and knelt beside us. For a moment, just a moment, he looked like what he was: a man who'd just lost his daughter. Then the mask slipped back into place.

"Take her to the hospital," he ordered one of his men. "Now."

They lifted Luna Celeste carefully, and I watched them carry her away. Blood stained the front of my dress, and my hands were still bleeding from the glass. But I couldn't feel any of it.

Saraphina was dead. My sister, who I'd hated and envied and loved. The one everyone compared me to. The one I used to braid hair with, stealing snacks from the kitchen, whispering secrets in the dark when Celeste had her back turned. We were close once. Before the world taught us our places.Saraphina did try. But Privilege was a hard drug to get off from.

And now she was gone. Gone for real. Not just away at her fancy school, but vanished from the world, leaving a hole nothing could fill.

I pressed a bloody palm against my mouth, swallowing a sob. All I could see was her smile, that cocky tilt of her head, the way she'd slip me sweets at midnight and promise I’d have my own room one day. My memories mixed up: resentment and love and old laughter tangled together.

The ballroom emptied quickly, as if everyone was afraid that tragedy might be catching. I barely noticed them leave. I just stood there, in a puddle of wine and blood and broken glass, listening to the tick of the grandfather clock and the far-off voices echoing down the marble halls.

Someone had to clean up. Celeste would expect it spotless when she returned, if she returned. I didn’t know what else she would do to me in her grief. My hands moved without thinking. I fetched the mop and a dustpan from the utility closet. I knelt in the middle of the room, gathering shards into trembling hands. Glass pricked my skin, stinging, but I barely noticed.

My mind kept drifting. Saraphina climbing the apple tree in the garden, her laugh ringing out as I tried to follow her, always two branches behind. Saraphina sneaking me into her bed on stormy nights, when thunder made me cry. Saraphina showing me how to tie my tie for the first day of school, grumbling about the uniform, smoothing my hair with a gentle hand until it came time for the academy and our class difference shined.

She’d been gone for so long, even before she died. We barely spoke these days. I’d been jealous, angry, hurt. But none of that mattered now. All I wanted was another chance to talk, to say sorry. To say goodbye.

I worked until my arms ached, scrubbing the white floor until the stains faded. Blood turned pink in the soapy water, swirling down the drain. My hands throbbed where glass had sliced them, but I kept going.

The mop made soft, rhythmic sounds. The world shrank to the small circle I could clean, the pain in my palms, the pressure in my chest. I could not cry. Not yet. If I started, I didn’t know if I’d stop.

A shadow moved across the doorway. I looked up, expecting another maid, but it was a sentinel, tall and broad in his uniform. He paused, watching me for a moment, his face unreadable.

"Rae," he said, voice low but firm. "The Alpha wants to see you. Now."

I blinked at him, my mind still tangled in memories. The mop slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.

“Now?” I croaked, not sure if I could trust my voice.

He nodded. "Well, I don’t recall you being deaf."

I wiped my hands on my ruined dress, leaving streaks of blood and wine. The sentinel waited for me at the door. I took one last look at the ballroom, and then followed him out, my heartbeat loud and lonely in my ears.

The sentinel led me through the hushed corridors. The house felt different now, as if Saraphina’s death had hollowed out its heart. I kept my eyes on the scuffed tips of his boots. My hands, still bleeding, left faint prints on my dress, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was Saraphina’s laugh, the promise of my own room one day, the ache in my chest that kept growing.

He stopped in front of the study’s heavy door and knocked once before opening it. “Go in,” he said.

I stepped inside, expecting cold silence. Instead, I found my father, Alpha Magnus Vale, pacing like a caged animal. He had a tumbler of whiskey in one hand, and the bottle on the desk was already half-empty. He looked up at me, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched. For a moment, he just stared.

I remembered, all at once, how rare it was to be in this room. How few words had ever passed between us since my birth. How I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been invited here, never for good reasons.

I stood awkwardly just inside the doorway, not sure what to do.

He set his glass down with a clink. “Sit, Rae.”

It was the first time he’d ever told me to sit, instead of ordering me to leave. The chair across from his desk felt enormous, swallowing me whole. I perched on the edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He poured another inch of whiskey. “You know,” he said, his voice flat, “I keep thinking about Saraphina. About how young she was. How quickly things can change.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. The words stuck in my throat. “Yes, Father.”

He stared at the dark liquid in his glass, swirling it. “You might think I called you in here to talk about your stepmother. About how she’ll handle this. And how best you can help her deal with the… stress. But that’s not it.”

He lifted his gaze, and for the first time, I saw not just the Alpha, but the man who’d lost a child. It lasted only a second.

“No,” he said. “What we have is a different problem. Your sister’s spot at Nocturne Prep.”

I blinked. The words didn’t make sense. “I’m sorry, Father, I don’t seem to understand.”

He looked at me as if I were slow. “Do you know how much I spent to secure her place at that school? How many years it took, how many favors I had to cash in?” His voice sharpened, frustration seeping in. “Nocturne Prep does not hand out seats to just anyone. You don’t lose a spot like that to some bumbling Alpha’s heir, or—gods forbid—a witch’s brat. That place is ours, Rae. It stays in this family.”

“Saraphina is your only child.” I swallowed.

“You are my child too.” He retorted.

I stared at him. “You mean… you want me to go? To Nocturne?”

He drained his glass and set it down with more force than necessary. “Pack your things. You leave at dawn.”

My mind whirled, trying to catch up. “What? I—I don’t understand. I’ve never—”

He cut me off, impatience flickering in his eyes. “I don’t like repeating myself, Rae Vale.”

Vale. The word hit me like a slap. All my life, I was just Rae. The maids called me girl, or you, and if anyone dared say “Vale,” it was always with a sneer, a reminder of my place at the bottom. Saraphina was the golden daughter, the one who belonged. Me? I was the secret, the mistake, the afterthought.

Now, suddenly, I was a Vale again. Not by love, not by acceptance, but by necessity. Because a spot at Nocturne Prep was too valuable to waste.

I sat there, stunned, staring at the man who was supposed to be my father, who hadn’t looked at me twice in years. He didn’t see me. He saw a solution. A placeholder. Someone to fill a seat and keep up appearances.

I felt numb. “Yes, Father,” I whispered, my voice hollow.