“It was the salt water. Love witches don’t mix well with salt. Sort of like garden snails.”
His eyes soften. “I meant the other thing.”
I retrace my sentence and gulp. I can’tsaythings like that, especially now that there’s a new girl in his life. My lips have suddenly gone dry. I step back. “Doesn’t matter anymore. It was nice of you to bring us bricks.” The eggs start to tremble.
“Let me help you.” He takes the corners of my skirt before I drop them. Thank the lilies for leggings.
I knead my numb hands together. Court gazes at me, his face full of longing, and the memory of a campfire springs to my mind. Closer, he tugs my dazed self by the skirt.
Then the chatter of familiar voices breaks the silence.
“They got out!” I jerk back.
Thankfully, he doesn’t drop my skirt. “Who?”
“Mother and Aunt Bryony. They’ll put me in the cold press. You have to go.”
It’s too late. They’ve already seen us. I collect my skirt and grit my teeth.
“Which one’s your mom?”
“The one who’s not smiling. Just don’t look her in the eye.”
Mother strides up, and it strikes me that even though she’s not smiling, neither is she frowning. But Aunt Bryony, holdinga pie pan with a chunk of frankincense on it, looks like she discovered gold. She give me a thumbs-up from beneath the plate, though I don’t know if that’s for Mother or Court or her nugget.
The twins appraise me through the same hooded cat eyes, magnified in the case of Aunt Bryony, who’s wearing Mother’s reading glasses. They even have the same prescription.
“Nice to see you again, Court,” says Aunt Bryony.
“Likewise.” His brow creases as his gaze shifts between Mother and Aunt Bryony.
“Have I met you, too?” Mother asks dryly. She picks up an empty flowerpot.
I recover my breath. “How’d you get out?”
Mother transfers my eggs into her pot. “That shall remain a secret in the event we decide to lock you up.”
Aunt Bryony leans in. “It was a snap.”
I sniff out of reflex for burnt tires, but all I get is soil and lavender from the closest bushes. “So . . . you’re not mad anymore?”
Aunt Bryony lifts her plate. “I will be if she doesn’t share this.”
“Get your own frankincense. You have a Cloud Air card.” Mother pushes her flowerpot of eggs into Court’s midsection. “Do you know how to boil water?”
Aunt Bryony tsks her tongue. “Don’t mind her.” She steers Court by the elbow toward the kitchen. “She gets cranky every time she’s incarcerated.”
Mother doesn’t release her mask of control until theydisappear into the house. Then she heaves a long sigh and reaches for me. “Honey, I’m sorry.”
She hugs me tight with her bony but stalwart arms, and tears spring to my eyes.
“I shouldn’t have tried so hard to keep you from the world.” Mother’s voice trembles and she caps her words with a loud sniff. It turns up the waterworks happening in my own eyes. “Though you can’t blame me for wanting to save you from a curse.”
A laugh escapes me and that sets her to laughing, too. But then she turns serious again. “You see, I just didn’t want, want to—” She claps a hand to her mouth.
“You won’t lose me, Mother. We’re a family.” An odd one, but is there any other kind? “And Iwantto be an aromateur. One day.”
“As great as your grandmother Narcissa?”
