If you’re reading this, then I suppose life has taken one of its usual turns. You were never meant to be caged, my sweet. You’ve inherited more than my potions—you’ve inherited my stubborn heart. If your path ever grows too narrow, findmy friend Tabitha. She’s in a coven near Grebath. Her phone number is inside my journal. Tell her you’re mine, and she’ll help you find your freedom.
— With all my love, and a pinch of trouble,
Grandma
The journal beneath it smelled faintly of herbs and smoke. I flipped it open—pages filled with potion recipes and notes, spells scribbled in her loopy handwriting, and little doodles of teacups and frogs. And at the very back was the nameTabithawith a phone number.
Tears started all over again—but softer this time. Not from heartbreak, but from relief.I leaned back in the seat and laughed through the tears.
“You couldn’t have just sent a normal inheritance, huh, Grandma? Had to lock it in a secret compartment of a car that opens with tears.”
The car hummed quietly, like it was pleased with itself.For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel trapped.
I knew where Grebath was—the big city that I’d never been to before—but I didn’t knowTabitha. There was one thing I was certain of, though. Grandma had given me a way out. And if nothing else, hiding in a large city would make it that much harder for my parents to find me. I didn’t see a downside to this plan.
And ifthatwasn’t magick, I didn’t know what was.
Chapter 5
Savla
Present Day
I’d faced down demons, fought through the storms of Hellplane, and once survived an explosion involving enchanted wood and bad decision-making—but none of that compared to the absolute nightmare of trying to button a dress shirt designed for a male twice as wide as the doorway he had to walk through.
Pen—our clan chieftess, a human who I was more scared of than I really should be—was forcing us into three-piece suits with bowties for the naming ceremony of her and her mate’s new youngling. Apparently, this was ‘a moment for family photos.’ I’d have rather fought another demon.
“Hold still,” Enka, my younger brother, said around amouthful of safety pins.
“Iamholding still,” I growled. The collar bit into my neck like it had a personal vendetta against my breathing.
Across the room, my older brother Krusk was trying—and failing—to tie his own bowtie. The thing looked less like a knot and more like it was trying to wriggle off his neck and escape. He glared at his reflection.
“Why do we have to wear these things anyway? Dristan knows what we look like. Why do we need bows on our necks?”
“Pen wants clan pictures,” Enka said, pulling the pins from his mouth. “You don’t argue with a female who just had a youngling. It’s a death wish.”
Gabbi, Enka’s four-year-old daughter, sat on the bed swinging her legs, her curls tied up with bright ribbons. She was in a little green dress that matched them perfectly, holding a pink toy wand and looking far too pleased with herself.
“You all look silly,” she announced cheerfully.
I squinted at her. “You’re not helping.”
She giggled. “Abu, Uncle Krusk looks like a grumpy turtle.”
Krusk sighed, muttering, “She’s not wrong.”
Enka grinned, adjusting his cufflinks. “Get ready for the fireworks, Gruk-ir—your uncles are having an emotional breakdown.”
I growled low in my throat and finally got the last button through its hole. “This is humiliating. I wear the shirts and jackets they make us wear, even though my own clothes areso much better.They’re supposed to be uncomfortable. But this—” I tugged at my collar. “—this is evil.”
“Pen said you’d say that,” Enka said. “She also said you’d survive.”
Gabbi hopped off the bed and toddled over to me, her tiny hands patting my sleeve. “It’s okay, Uncle Savla. You look handsome. Like a prince.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “A… prince?”
She nodded solemnly. “A grumpy one. But still a prince.”
