all. Her Quickening performance was nearly a success.
Nearly. But thanks to Arsinoe, she had not even gotten to finish.
It will not be long until they are safely back at Westwood House. Though it will not be the same as it once was. Now that Katharine is missing and presumed dead, the temple will take a defensive position until it is determined what happened. Rho will have a small army near Mirabella night and day. Already armed priestesses surround the coach, as well as Sara and Uncle Miles’s coach ahead of them.
Mirabella doubts that Arsinoe will launch another attack so soon. But the temple will be ready for anything.
“I froze when that bear charged,” Mirabella whispers, and Bree and Elizabeth raise their heads from where they rest against the windows. “At first I thought it was a mistake. But it came right for me.”
Her friends look down sadly. They will not tell her that Arsinoe did not mean it. And she does not want them to. She has had days to relive that terror, and for the hurt in her heart to turn to anger. Perhaps Arsinoe also murdered Katharine. Perhaps she had some other creature waiting for her when she ran away into the woods.
Sweet little Katharine. Who she and Arsinoe used to swear to protect.
“Elizabeth,” Mirabella says. “You are a naturalist. Could you have done what Arsinoe did with that bear?”
Elizabeth shakes her head. “Never. Not with fifty of me. She is . . . stronger than any naturalist I have ever seen.”
“Or even heard of,” Bree says with wide eyes. “Mira, what will we do? If it were not for that boy, Joseph, you would be dead.”
Mirabella told them, afterward, who Joseph was and what happened between them. It came out in a rush, in her tent, when she was heartbroken in so many ways. Betrayed by Arsinoe and dragged away from Joseph, possibly forever.
“Dear Joseph,” Elizabeth says. “His love for you may save you again. If he is truly Arsinoe’s good friend, perhaps he will stop her. Perhaps he will help us.”
“I will not ask him to take sides,” Mirabella says.
“But someone will. Arsinoe. Or Luca. I don’t think that someone as strong as Arsinoe will hesitate to use her advantages.”
“That is good,” Mirabella says. “I do not want her to hesitate. I want her to push me and push me until I hate her.”
She looks back out the window, to escape the knowing sadness in Bree’s and Elizabeth’s eyes. They knew it would come to this. Everyone knew, except for Mirabella. But she is through being sentimental. Seeing that bear, and Arsinoe’s cold face behind that mask, showed her the truth.
The sisters she loved at the Black Cottage are gone. Arsinoe saw her chance, and she took it. So next time, Mirabella will take hers as well.
GREAVESDRAKE MANOR
After a week of searching, Pietyr traveled back to Greavesdrake with Natalia. But once they arrived, he would not stay. Without Katharine, there was nothing for him there.
Natalia did not try to convince him otherwise. The boy was miserable. Even his dull country house was preferable to Greavesdrake, haunted by Katharine’s ghost.
Before he left, they had one last drink together in her study.
“You had me so convinced about the Sacrificial Year and the temple,” he said. “I thought they were going to take her head. I did not even think of Arsinoe.”
Now he is gone, packed into a carriage, and Natalia is again alone. Genevieve and Antonin went directly to their houses in town, fearful of her mood. They would not dare return without an invitation.
The servants too refuse to look her in the eye. It would be nice if any of them were decent enough to pretend that everything was all right.
Natalia walks down the main hall and listens to the spring wind rattle branches against the windows. The manor feels drafty this year. She will need workmen from the capital to inspect the windows and doors. It may not be hers for much longer, but she will not let the grand old house fall into disrepair.
In the long, red hallway that attaches to the staircase to her bedroom, she notes dust on the sconces and a small stack of clothing folded and set just inside the door to the hall bath. She stoops over to pick it up and stops.
She is not alone. There is a girl, standing in the foyer.
Her dress is a ruin, and her hair knotted and twisted through with filth. She does not