“Always busy.”
“I’m sure.” Eleanor cut a piece of bread with precise movements. “Though I imagine it must be quite different from your previous position.”
There it was, like a knife, slipped between Ramona’s ribs with practiced ease.
Ramona’s hands tightened on her fork. “Yep,” she said, popping the P.
“Still,” Eleanor continued, her tone light, “I suppose retail has its own merits. Certainly more stable than academia these days. Less… demanding. As I’ve always told you, the academy isn’t for everyone. I did thrive there, of course, but you never quite did.” She sighed, swirling the wine in her glass.
Zara cast a sidelong glance toward Ramona, then looked toward her mother. Iris was staring at her plate. Bradford was methodically eating his soup. Thomas looked up toward Ramona, as if expecting her to say something. As Ramona stole a look at Zara, she noticed the demon was staring directly at Eleanor, her eyes dark.
“And you don’t have to worry much about the incident, since you’re all the way away in Fernwick,” Eleanor added. “Much safer for everyone involved.”
The room went very quiet.
Ramona felt like she couldn’t breathe. Something came over her when she was with her parents, like she was a weak child again. She wanted to defend herself, wanted to explain, wanted to scream that she’d been trying, that she’d been doing her best, that retail wasn’t a failure, it was just —
A chill seemed to fall on the room, the candles in the middle of the table flickering as if in a breeze. “I’m sorry,” Zara said. Her voice cut through the silence like a blade. “I don’t understand what you could possibly mean by saying that. Could you explain it to me in detail?”
Everyone turned to look at her.
Eleanor’s eyebrows raised slightly. “I simply meant —”
“Because from where I’m sitting,” Zara continued, her tone still perfectly polite but with an edge underneath that made Ramona’s pulse quicken. “It would seem you’re implying you’re not proud of the path your daughter has chosen.”
“Zara—” Ramona whispered.
“No.” Zara didn’t look at her. Her eyes were fixed on Eleanor. “We gather for Imbolc to celebrate the halfway point between the winter and spring, right? Tonight is a promise of renewal, of rebirth, of fertility. It’s meant to be a cleansing date, where you light candles against the darkness and cleanse your home of negativity. And yet, I’m shocked to find that despite the crosses and the candles and the feast, the negativity clearly remains among us.”
The silence was deafening. Ramona’s mouth fell open in surprise.
Eleanor had gone very still. Thomas set down his spoon.
Ramona couldn’t speak. Her throat had closed up completely. Hot, urgent, embarrassed, and grateful tears were building behind her eyes.
No one had ever?—
In two years, no one had?—
“Well,” Eleanor said eventually. Her voice was tight. “That’s certainly an interesting opinion.”
Zara smiled, her expression almost serene and pleasant. “I would hope that perhaps we can all choose to focus on the brighter days ahead instead of the darkness of the past.”
Iris was staring between them with her mouth slightly open. Bradford was pale. Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Perhaps weshouldlook ahead and discuss Ostara,” Eleanor said, clearly desperate to change the subject. “The Spring Equinox Gala is in six weeks. The whole family will be attending, of course.”
“Of course,” Iris echoed quickly.
“Ramona.” Eleanor’s gaze fixed on her daughter. “You’ll be there this year. No excuses.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command.
Ramona found her voice. “I’ll try?—”
“You’ll be there,” Eleanor repeated. “The Greenbriar family will be hosting a table. Your absence has been noted. People are asking questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Ramona asked, though she knew the answer.
