And that was exactly what worried me.
I’d never been good at games when the rules were hidden, the board moved, and the opponent had the patience of someone who’d spent far too long convincing herself she was the only one clever enough to see the truth.
Alex had loved rules when they benefited him. The Academy loved them when it wanted to teach a lesson. The Priestess looked like she’d invented rules simply so she could admire herself breaking them.
But Celeste made it out. Keegan had her. My mom was alive and with my dad.
That was all that mattered.
Those thoughts became my anchor, and I clung to them harder than I’d clung to the broomstick on the flight here.
“I wouldn’t call saving my daughter crumbling,” I said, keeping my voice even. “It was the rational thing to do. It was logical.”
“Magic is rarely logical.” Her lips curved.
“Magic or not, prioritizing is a must.”
“Ah.” She drifted around the edge of the pit, her dark gown whispering against the stone.
I watched the shadows below curl toward her when she neared. The shadows were like her pets begging for attention.
“There it is. That charming little mortal tendency to rename weakness so it sounds noble.”
“Love isn’t a weakness.” I stared at her as my fingers twitched for my wand, but I didn’t reach for it. I knew better.
“Of course, it’s a weakness. Foolish decisions are made based upon emotion.”
The compound had quieted around us, which felt almost worse than the battle. The walls no longer shifted violently. The shadows in the pit had lowered into restless loops. The blue sconces along the chamber burned steadily, casting cold light over the Priestess’ face and making her look younger for a second.
It was hard to reconcile that I was looking at my grandmother.
But could I really call her that if it was only by blood? Did it actually count?
I thought about Grandma Elira and the warmth in her eyes, even when sorrow bent her shoulders. She smelled like parchment, lavender, and old magic.
But the woman I looked at now felt wrong. She was nothing like Grandma Elira or anyone in my family.
“You’re staring,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Are you plotting a way out?”
“No, I’m trying to see the resemblance between us. How we could be family.”
Her eyes sharpened with amusement. “And what have you come up with?”
“I’m relieved whatever plight you have skipped me.”
For the first time, something like delight moved across her face. “There is more of me in you than you’d like to admit.”
“I know you want to flatter yourself with that, but you’ll only be disappointed.”
“Don’t you feel it? That fury and anger brewing through your system? It offers so many options you’d never dare think of without the darkness.”
“I feel pity for you,” I said softly. “But not anger.”
I wouldn’t let her take hold of any of my emotions and let her tangle them in her web of lies.
She ignored me and stepped forward. “Would you likea tour of your new home?”
“No. It’s not my new home.”
