She shivered as she remembered the feeling of being watched. The Sons of Endros could have been lying in wait for her. Walking Teddy home might have saved them both. Gods, running into the Roach and his friends may have protected them.
Walking in the front door of the McKay Estate, Stella entered the living room and paused in front of the wall of portraits. Her favorites were the one of Cecilia standing next to her huntmaster father with a bow in her hands, one from Rainer and Cecilia’s wedding with her mother clad in a dress that looked like the night sky at dusk, and her favorite, a picture of a young Cecilia surrounded in a swirl of color, painted by the late Rosalee Reznik, Stella’s grandmother.
Stella closed her eyes and tried to imagine a portrait of her and Arden there next to the rest. She held the vision in her head as if she could make it happen with her will alone. What was a spell if not something woven from vision and words and will? Shewouldmake it happen.
She dashed upstairs and washed the salt water from her skin and hair with new resolve. Then, she ravenously ate the breakfast Rosie brought to her room. Healing was hungry work and she’d used her magic to fend off Rett and his friends.
Rosie watched her in quiet assessment from where she was sprawled on Stella’s bed, her fingers never leaving the silk thread and dried flowers in her lap. Her sister was always creating—always so visionary and happy in her solitude.
“Do you want me to bring you something else?” Rosie asked. “I know Papa made more. I’m almost finished with this string.” She knotted another flower into the line and then held it up.
“What’s it going to be?” Stella asked.
Rosie shrugged and smiled, a far-off look in her eye.
For a moment, she looked like her mother, Rosa. Stella was so young when Rosie’s mother lived with them that it was hard to remember much, but she remembered little things like the way Rosa’s eyes sparkled when she smiled and the way she always had paint on her hands and fingernails and a glow about her when she started a new project.
“You look like your mom when you talk about your art,” Stella said.
Rosie’s cheeks pinked. “Really?”
Stella nodded. “I never thought about it before because I don’t have my own full memories of her, just the ones Mama has shared with you. But there are these little things, faint moments that are mine. She would light up like you do when you’re thinking about what you’re working on.”
Rosie smiled and her eyes sparkled. Stella felt nothing but guilt for ever making her feel like their blood mattered. Love ran so much deeper.
“You never talk about her,” Rosie said.
“I don’t like to because I don’t like to remind you?—”
“That she’s dead?” Rosie smiled sadly. “I know she’s gone and sometimes I feel so guilty that she had to die so I could be here. But I always want to remember her.”
Cecilia had met Rosa at the healer’s clinic when she was coming in for prenatal visits. The two became fast friends because Rosa’s husband was a fisherman and she always scheduled the last appointment of the day in the hope he’d be able to come with her. He was rarely able to make it, which meant that Rosa was left with three-year-old Stella and Leo to entertain her.
When her husband was lost to a storm a few months later, Rosa was a pregnant widow with very little money to her name. Cecilia and Rainer had taken her in and let her stay in the family’s seaside cottage.
In Stella’s memory, it was a strange time because they moved from the cottage where she’d spent her childhood to the family estate. It seemed massive in comparison to the tiny house where she’d beenborn. But every day, Cecilia would take Leo and Stella to visit Rosa and they would get to see what she was working on.
“We spent a lot of afternoons with her. I remember she used to sneak me and Leo extra biscuits.”
Rosie laughed. “So you always had a sweet tooth like Mama.”
“Of course. I was so confused after she passed and you came to live with us and Mama used to take us down to the cottage to sit with you and it felt so empty without her. I think she’d love what you’ve done with it. It feels alive again. You’ve really made it your own,” Stella said.
Rosie preened. “I think she’d like it too.” She cocked her head and eyed Stella. “You’re being suspiciously nice. You don’t have to feel bad about what you said the other day. You already apologized and I know you only said it because you were angry. You’ve always had a temper but I know you don’t mean it.”
Guilt settled in Stella’s stomach. “Fine. Would you prefer to talk about Nathan Aiger?”
A blush stole up Rosie’s neck and cheeks. “There’s nothing to talk about. You don’t need to protect me, Stella. I’ve known Nathan a while, too. I know better than to get attached. It was just nice to have attention. It made me feel pretty.”
Stella frowned. “Youarepretty. Beautiful, really. If you weren’t, Leo wouldn’t hover so much.”
Rosie smiled brilliantly and jumped to her feet. “I should go get these strung up.” She hesitated. “Will you be okay? I know last night was upsetting, and you were hoping to see Arden.”
Stella waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’m sure he has a good reason for being absent.”
Rosie frowned and, though she was much too kind to say it, Stella could practically hear her unspoken “Doesn’t he always?”
Rosie had always been Stella’s confidant in all things romantic and whimsical. She idolized their parents’ relationship as much as Stella did, but she clearly had patience that Stella lacked.
