“We’ll look through this tomorrow,” I told my mother. “We’ll talk to someone who knows how to bully the right gods. You’re not doing this alone.”
. “Thank you,” she said simply. “But at least I’m where I belong.”
Chapter Fourteen
“How’d it go up north?” my mom asked.
I stopped mid-sip. The question hit like a pebble to the chest
I hadn’t planned on telling her. Not tonight, not yet.
“How do you—” I began carefully.
She shrugged. “Stone talks. Ward talks. Your old man can’t keep a secret from me. Never could. And well, Karvey…”
“Traitor,” I called up to the roof.
“Protector,” Karvey corrected from outside, not without pride.
Miora slid a slice of garlic bread onto my mother’s plate with the kind of firmness that brooked no argument.
“They’re all terrible gossips,” she said. “The stone, the men, the women, the bread. Don’t take it personally.”
I looked at Keegan, who arched a brow that said he’d hoped for a quiet night, but we never could wish for peace in Stonewick.
“Neutral ground,” I said to my mom. “We met Luna and Gideon there.”
My mom didn’t flinch at Gideon’s name the way she used to. And my father stood proud. The curse hadn’t just chewed him up; it had forced him to keep what he wanted to think about forever on a leash.
“Did you punch him?” she asked mildly.
“No,” I said. “But the bramble mule sneezed confetti on his coat.”
“Acceptable,” she said. “Did he say anything worth a pinch of salt?”
“He said yes,” Keegan answered, saving me the swallow. “To joining the circle.”
My mom set her spoon down like a woman who knew how to hide a shake. Pride and protectiveness and the suspicion that all men who say yes are lying did a complicated thing across her face. “Huh.”
“But the Hollows confirmed he was being truthful.”
“Motive?” she asked.
“I’d suspect self-preservation.”
“Makes sense.”
“And the priestess—” I began, then stopped because the word snagged.
“The high priestess threw weather at us,” Keegan said calmly. “Nova flattened it. The Hollows wouldn’t let her play.”
My mom’s jaw worked. “She knows you were there, then.”
“Apparently,” I said.
She nodded once, small and sharp, the nod of a gal who has assessed the situation instantly.
My mother watched us like a woman who had stepped into a story mid-chapter and was trying to find the balance between disbelief and learning to swim.
