“Father asking you about who unlocked my magic, for one. But youknowProfessor Reinhardt did it.”
“I knew it even before you told me.” Hawthorn tells me, shooing me away from the espresso machine and taking over for me.
“He told you?”
“Of course, he told me. He’s my best friend and you’re my little sister. I told him to watch out for you.”
“I didn’t realize the two of you were friends, but that doesn’t explain why he was such a prick to me half the term.”
Hawthorn shakes with laughter. “So, he was… Ian. Why am I not remotely surprised? We’ve been friends since we attended Fairhaven together. You can trust him. He’s the best alpha I know. When he’s not being an absolute dickhead.”
“You know, he told me I could trust you too.”
Hawthorn sighs. “Sorry for how I acted when the rest of the family was around. Fuck, it’s like they’re finally letting me into their inner circle, but only if I turn my back on you—or seem to.”
“Why do you evenwantto be in their inner circle?”
“That’s not obvious? To bring them down.”
“Do you know what this whole big plot is?”
“Only bits and pieces. They’re only just starting to trust me.” He passes me a cappuccino and then nods toward the hall. “Come with me for a minute?”
Confused, I follow Hawthorn toward the back of the house where our mother’s old conservatory still stands. He jiggles the knob, casts a quick spell, shoves the creaking door open.
“You can’t go in there, Hawthorn. It’s dangerous!”
“And why do you think that is?” he asks, stepping farther into the room. He holds up his hand and sparks flicker across his skin.
“You know some contractors we had in had an accident when they were working on fortifying the foundations.”
“Do you always believe what Father tells you? Come in, Juniper. You’ll be safe in here. After all… your magic is what caused this destruction. The most skilled mages haven’t been able to cleanse this space of your magic, even years later.”
Mine? Impossible.
But is it?a small voice at the back of my mind asks. My magic frightened my father so much he locked it. I step tentatively over the threshold and into the room, and it’s like walking into my very own soul. My magic welcomes me, dances along my skin.
“What did I do?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. I mean, clearly you torched this place. I just don’t know why.”
I drift farther into the room, touching sooty stone tables, stepping carefully over broken shards of pottery. The smell of smoke still hangs in the air, all these years later, but as I drag the acrid scent into my lungs, the world around me shifts.
The conservatory is engulfed in flames. Not now. Then? When I was younger? I look down at my hands, expecting to see the yellow nail polish I favored when I was sixteen. Instead, I see a bite.
Saints, amatingbite, right at the fleshy heel of my palm, right below the omega trap’s scars Luca once kissed.
The world around me spins, burns, blazes, heat rippling across my skin, and when I look back down, I am sixteen again, chipped yellow nail polish on my nails, a fearful refrain echoing in my mind.
They’re coming for you. They’re coming for you.
I sway on my feet and the world spins once more, back to what I can only assume is the future, and I watch, immobile, as the conservatory and the manor beyond burn to ash around me.
“I’m going to burn this place to the fucking ground,” I say, my knees giving out.
“Atta girl,” Hawthorn says, catching me as I fall.
As unconsciousness claims me.
