“No,” I say. “It is a decision I will have to live with.”
“We all make bad choices, Fox,” my dad says. “Ones we often have to live with. The main thing is that we recognize they were bad and we try to make amends.”
“I am,” I say. “I am trying to make amends. It’s the reason I’m here.”
They glance at each other, then back at me.
“There’s someone I need you to meet,” I tell them both.
“You brought someone with you?” my mom asks. Her gaze immediately darts around the room, inspecting imaginary mess and dirt.
“Mom, the house is fine. And actually, it’s more than one person.”
“Where are they?” she says.
“Waiting outside.”
Horror skates over her face. “Don’t leave them out in the cold, Fox! Bring them in! Bring them in!” And then she’s scurrying away to the kitchen and I can hear the stove already being lit.
I turn to my father.
“I have to be honest with you, Dad,” I say. “All of us have been declared traitors by the Empress. Being here puts you and Mom in danger.”
“Traitors?” my father says. “What have you done?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Are you?” he asks me. “Traitors?”
I shake my head. “Can I bring them in and we can explain?”
“Yes,” he says. “Bring them in.”
I stride to the door, down the alleyway, and find them all huddled by the backyard. Dray has a few words to tell me about leaving them in the cold. Beaufort has his arms around Briony, attempting to keep her warm.
Again, I consider if I’m doing the right thing. Briony means everything to me. But I have a responsibility to my family too, one I have severely neglected over these last few years. And doing this puts their lives in danger.
Then I hear my dad say, “Bring them in, Fox, quickly before they all freeze to death.”
I have them follow me inside. And then we’re all crowding in the small front room – Briony, the Princes, Briony’s friends, and her old dog. The room looks substantially smaller with all of us in it. My mom fusses around us all, insisting we take the sofas and the armchairs, finding a couple of wooden stools from the kitchen, plucking out an old bone from the garbage for the dog, and then passing around hot tea and homemade muffins.The flour is poor. The butter, watery. But no one says anything. We’re all grateful.
And as the others eat and the dog chews greedily on the bone lying out by Briony’s feet, I explain everything to my parents, who, to their credit, take it all calmly.
“A lumomancer,” my mom says when I finish the story, her eyes lingering on Briony with a certain degree of awe.
“Yes,” I say. “And my fated mate.”
“Fated mate?” My mother nearly drops the teacup in her hand. “Fated mate? Really? I didn’t think any such things existed. I thought that was fairy tales.”
“Magic is a funny thing,” Beaufort says. “And it can tie us to the people that fate has determined are ours.”
“Ours?” my mother says next.
“We’re all tied together by fate, Mom,” I explain. “We’re all Briony’s mates.”
“All of you?” she gasps.
“Not me,” Fly points out, raising his hand.
