He shook his head. “This is my responsibility, and if I abdicate it, I don’t get out of fault for what someone else does in my place. If I’m there, I can spearhead changes. Prevent more Goshen Groups. Try to keep rents down. Work toward more dramatic changes long term. This is where I can do the most good.” He stared at her, eyes searching. “That makes sense, right?”
“I…” She hesitated. It was hard not to worry that if he stayed in his father’s orbit without being able to set boundaries, it was Gavin whose direction would change, not Dennis’s. But he was looking at her with so much hope that the edges of her cynicism softened, and she found herself saying, “Yes. Yes, it does.”
Relief broke across his face, and before she knew it, they were kissing one more time beneath the mistletoe.
And even though she knew there was one more thing that needed to be shared, so that everything would finally be out in the open, she looked at the smile on his face and kept her mouth firmly shut.
Tomorrow,she told herself,I’ll do it tomorrow.
And she let herself believe it.
When he finally left, Rowan fell asleep easily, but the morning came too soon. Had she been less exhausted, more attuned withthe portents, she might have noticed that a wind had swept the holly she’d plucked from his hair out of her window, and when she looked outside and glimpsed a snowy owl in the first light of dawn, she would have taken it for what it was—not a picturesque moment served up by nature but an omen of trouble to come.
Had she thought a little harder, she might also have remembered what the cards had warned—that there was no way forward without the past coming due, bringing with it a devastating ending.
34
December 29
The Ninth Day of Yule
The morning kitchen was quiet, but not empty. Her mother was bent over the kettle, pouring a cup of tea—her eyes swathed in shadows from the late night. Rowan took tentative steps down the stairs, remembering she had another apology due.
“Morning,” she called. Liliana glanced up briefly and then looked back down at her tea. “About the ritual—”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” said her mother, voice flat. “We had someone else there to fill in the empty spot. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. I want to apologize, so let me apologize.”
“Okay, apologize,” said her mother with a shrug. Liliana had shut herself down tight. Nothing Rowan could say was going to get through. A strange energy built between them—a fetid, throbbing thing.
“I’m sorry,” Rowan began.
Her mother nodded impassively.
“Oh, come on! Look at me, listen to me. It was one spell, Mom! Just one damn spell!”
Liliana finally reacted, slamming her teacup down so hardthat a surge of hot water and dried flowers flowed up, spilling onto the counter. Energy erupted, like pus from a festering wound.
“It isn’t about one spell,” said her mother. “It’s about showing up for your family when we need you.”
“I have been showing up constantly since I got here!”
“For the first time inyears.”
Rowan threw her hands up. “Sorry if I was busy fighting for the future of the planet.”
Liliana pressed her hands into the counter and leaned in. “And? Did you do it? Did ya save the planet, Rowan?”
Rowan’s breath stalled. “That’s not fair, it’s a complex issue, I—”
“Of courseit is, but you have deluded yourself into thinking that locking yourself up in a room and trying to think up grand solutions is as good as actually doing something about it. You avoid the real work, the hard work. The work that requires persistence, showing up day after day because people are relying on you.”
“I know!” Rowan shouted, fingers winding in her hair, wrenching at it. “I know. But it’s not that I’m not willing. I just…get there and Ifail.Again and again. Over and over. I don’t understand how to be the person you want me to be and also do something worthwhile. Anything, really.”
Rowan pulled her hands free, clasping them together to keep herself from ravaging her hair any further. “I have spent my whole life hearing that my way of doing things is wrong. You want me to do magic, but not my magic. You want me to contribute, but not in the ways I’m good at. Doing that—doing things in a box meant for someone else—it’s fucking exhausting, and it means I’m always going to fall short. I have spent the last eight years fighting my magic, fighting my instincts. I’m so tired.”
By the time she finished, her breath had gone ragged. Her stomach churned.
