“Oh, Serafina. Such accusations. The truth is, you should be thanking me for freeing you from his derelict parenting. He all but abandoned you, after all, didn’t he?”
Before I could reply, a sharp laugh rang through the gathering night, and Amabel and Eluned appeared on either side of her, their faces twisted with amusement.
“Look at her,” Amabel sneered. “Clinging to a dead man’s grave like he can protect her.”
“As if he ever did in life,” Eluned scoffed.
“Say what you want.” I lifted my chin. “My father was twice the person any of you will ever be.”
“Brave words.” Arabesque clicked her tongue. “But bravery won’t save you. Not anymore. You belong tomenow, Serafina.”
Panic surged through me and fear made my palms sweat, but I met her gaze with my chin raised.
“You’ll never own me.”
“We’ll see.”
Never dropping her gaze, I edged around the trio of terrors as they blocked the gates, and the moment I crossed out of the cemetery, Arabesque’s smile deepened. She lifted a hand and, before I knew what she was doing, a crushing force slammed into me, hurling me flat onmy back. The stench of burning hair mixed with rot went up my nose, a stink I couldn’t identify, but had smelled often enough ever since she’d moved in.
Whatever it was, she was coating me in it and I couldn’t stop her, not even with my magic. It locked me down, heavier than an alfalfa bale, and then it wrenchedsomethingfrom me, something that was never meant to be taken. Agony firing through every nerve, I screamed as I lay pinned under her power.
“Oh, thatistasty,” she purred. “So rich and pure and all mine.”
Tossing back her head, she laughed, almost loud enough to drown out my cries, but it was the wind howling through the trees that carried away the last remnants of the girl I used to be.
1. To Wear Silence
Seri
I sat in the old rocking chair, one of the few items to survive Arabesque’s purge last fall. Its familiar creak was a sort of lullaby as I cradled Josslyn in my arms. Her tiny hands, so delicate and new, curled into fists as she drank her bottle, her eyelids closed, but fluttering. The scent of baby lotion and fresh laundry filled the air, a combination that wrapped around me like a warm hug.
Six months.
Six long, brutal months since Papa’s death. I’d turned nineteen, saw my baby sister born, and watched the farm grow dormant. Arabesque had stripped it bare, selling off the livestock, even Rasputin, Mama’s naughty old goat. Only the kitchen garden and orchard remained, and both struggled under my care, as if the earth itself mourned the absence of Papa’s touch.
I miss him, too. Him and Mama,I thought with stinging eyes.
This wasn’t a home anymore. It was a prison. I couldn’t fight back, couldn’t run, couldn’t even think clearly most days. Arabesque saw to that. Every week, she drained my magic, leaving me hollow and brittle. She didn’t care that siphoning was illegal, that it was wrong, that she eked out less and less each time, that she was slowly killing me. She only cared about power, about bending the world to her will, about control.
She also didn’t care that I alone was responsible for Josslyn and the endless chores. Just keeping up with the never-ending laundry was a challenge.
Doesn’t help that Eluned changes her outfits three or four times a day,I thought, a little frown tugging my eyebrows together.
Josslyn stirred, shifting in my arms as she finished her bottle. I gently burped her, loving the soft warmth of her against my shoulder. She was so tiny, so vulnerable, and yet, she was my strength, my reason to keep going.
Arabesque saw her as nothing more than a future pawn in her games, but to me, she was my sister. When Arabesque failed to name her, I’d given her Mama’s name, one that meant happiness and cheer, but spelled it differently to make it her own.
I smoothed down her little thicket of black hair, marveling at how much she looked like Papa, a bittersweet thought I quickly pushed aside. I wanted to wrap her in a cocoon of safety, to shield her from every harsh word and cruel touch that Arabesque would supply.
But how can I protect her when I can’t even protect myself?
As I rocked, I let out a long sigh, and an answering whine came from Brumous. The dire wolf pup lifted his head from where he lay at my feet, his blue eyes striking against his charcoal gray fur.
Three months ago, Arabesque had dragged him home from somewhere, a tiny pup barely weaned. She’d been intent on creating a dire that could shift into a human form, but only succeeded in fracturing him. Writing him off as a failure, she’d planned to drown him in the river until I intervened. Since then, he’d rarely left my side.
“It’s okay, Brummy,” I murmured softly. It was a habit now, to practically whisper. Anything louder drew unwanted attention.
He rubbed his head against my leg, and I reached down, my fingers brushing through his patchy fur, still regrowing after Arabesque’s spells. Unlike a normal dire, he couldn’t speak, part of his mind seemingly shattered thanks to her cruelty, but we made it work.
