“Xiomara! What is it? Did someone find… do we have anything new about?—”
Again, Xiomara waved her hand like the questions were a fly that was annoying her. “No, no. I came to see you about Persi.”
Rhi threw a look at me over Xiomara’s head. We’d barely seen Persi since the night the grimoire was moved to the lighthouse. “Look, I know she’s being a bit… protective of the grimoire, but you can’t blame her Xiomara. We never thought we’d see it again, and?—”
“It’s not about the grimoire,” Xiomara said. “Yes, she’s being insufferable about it, but it’s no more than we expected. No, this is about Persi and Bernadette.”
Rhi froze where she stood. “What about them?” she asked, her voice utterly blank with bewilderment.
“You know that Persi’s been visiting Bernadette?” Xiomara asked.
“Well, yes, of course,” Rhi said, wiping her hands on her dish towel as she sank into a chair opposite Xiomara. “But surely no one is frowning on that? You know their history, Xiomara, they were…” Rhi stopped suddenly, glancing at me, before going on, “…they were so close. Surely you aren’t going to begrudge her visitors?”
“No, it’s not that,” Xiomara said. “Goddess knows the poor girl’s been through enough. It’s only… well, you know Bernadette’s gifts.”
She said it in that loaded way that adults speak in front of younger people when they’re trying to refer to things indirectly. I bit down on the inside of my cheek in annoyance, but otherwise kept my face impassive.
“Yes, I do,” Rhi said, “and so does Wren, so please speak plainly, Xiomara.”
I could have hugged Rhi, but I stayed where I was. I did know all about Bernadette’s gifts. In fact, I’d found myself the subject of several of her prophetic paintings last spring when I first arrived in Sedgwick Cove.
Xiomara glanced at me, and then shrugged. “As you like. Bernadette has been very… prolific since she was removed from the Hold. I worry—or I should say, Ostara worries—that Persi’s regular visits might be upsetting her.”
Rhi tapped her fingers against the tabletop, looking pensive. “Is Ostara worried that Persi is upsetting Bernadette, or does she simply wish there were fewer witnesses to whatever it is Bernadette has been creating of late?”
It was hard to tell from where I was standing, but I thought that Xiomara might have betrayed a smile before she got her expression under control. My gaze darted to Rhi, whose quizzical expression relaxed into something resembling satisfaction.
So Rhi was right,I thought.
“If you could encourage Persi to… give some space, I think Ostara would appreciate it,” Xiomara said, her tone the model of diplomacy.
“I would hardly expect you to come here and do Ostara’s dirty work for her,” Rhi said, and there was an edge in her voice that I rarely heard there.
“Consider it a personal favor,” Xiomara shot back. “If Ostara had delivered the message herself, it would not have been nearly this friendly.”
“Well then, why don’t you deliver a message for me in return,” Rhi said lightly.
Xiomara chewed her tongue. “I’m not a carrier pigeon, Rhiannon.”
“Just this once,” Rhi said, refusing to be deterred. “If Ostara spent less time trying to keep up appearances and more time focused on the actual needs of her coven—even the less publicly palatable ones—she’d have far fewer favors to ask of people, and a much more functional coven.”
Xiomara snorted, but kept her face under control. I doubted Rhi had said a single word that Xiomara didn’t agree with, but she could hardly say so out loud as a member of the Conclave. So instead, she stood up with a quiet groan and said, “I’ll pass it along.”
“And if you hear anything,” Rhi added, as Xiomara turned to go, “about Jess Ballard or… or anything?”
“You’ll be my first call,” Xiomara assured her. Then she gave us both a tight smile and said, “I’ll see myself out.”
It took an impossibly long time,but at last, Monday came. Shadowkeep usually closed early on Mondays, and luckily, this Monday was no exception, despite the continued size of the crowds. I turned the closed sign over with a sigh of relief that felt like it came all the way from my toes. I’d barely turned around when Persi breezed past me to the back door.
“You can lock up, right?” she said, though it was more of a statement than a request.
“Yeah, but?—”
“I’ve got to be somewhere,” Persi said. “I don’t want to be?—”
A sharp rapping sounded behind me. As I spun to see where the sound was coming from, Persi gave a sigh and murmured, “Oh for goddess’ sake, not again!”
Leila Nightjar was standing on the other side of the door I’d just locked, waving her hand frantically. I stepped forward to let her in when Persi cried, “No! Don’t… I’ll meet her around the back.”
