Her eyes narrow, and for a moment I see something cold and calculating beneath the polished surface, something that reminds me uncomfortably of a predator evaluating potential prey.
“I prefer not to intrude uninvited,” she says with forced casualness. “The manor has been. . .temperamental since my mother’s, your grandmother’s passing. Old houses sometimes develop peculiar habits.”
“It does not tolerate false Anchors,”Sir murmurs and I have to resist the urge to smile at his barely concealed smugness.
“You are absolutely welcome to come inside,” I say, making my tone polite but firm, offering genuine hospitality while knowing full well she cannot accept. “We were just having dessert, and there’s plenty of cake to go around.”
“That will not be necessary,” Lenora answers quickly, dismissing the invitation with a wave of her hand that manages to make my offer seem somehow beneath her consideration.
“Because you choose not to accept,” I clarify with deliberate precision, “or because you cannot accept?”
I tilt my head slightly, letting her see that I’m genuinely curious about her answer, that I’m already drawing my own conclusions about her inability to cross the manor’s threshold.
Her carefully maintained composure fractures for the briefest moment, just long enough for me to see something that might be panic or rage flash across her features, before she steadies herself again with visible effort.
“I have no desire to test the house’s unpredictable moods this particular evening,” she says, the words coming out slightly more clipped than she probably intended.
Behind me, none of the men speak, but their attention is like a physical weight. They don’t need to voice their thoughts, we all know exactly what’s happening here, what her inability to approach the manor really means.
Lenora folds her hands once more, the gesture helping her reclaim some semblance of control over a situation that is clearly not going according to whatever plan she had when she decided to make this late-night visit.
“Keisha, I came here to discuss practical matters,” she says, her voice taking on a more businesslike tone. “The estate, the shop, your long-term intentions regarding the inheritance. These are important considerations that require careful planning.”
“I haven’t made any announcements about my plans.”.
“No, you have not,” she agrees, “but given that you did not grow up in Ruby Springs, given your complete lack of connection to this community, I naturally assumed this was a temporary visit. That you would take time to settle the inheritance, determine what should be sold or preserved for historical value, and then return to your established life elsewhere.”
The word ‘sold’ echoes louder than she probably intended, carrying implications that make my blood run cold. She’s talking about dismantling everything, the house, the shop, the family legacy, like they’re nothing more than assets to be liquidated for convenience.
“I haven’t made that decision.” Every word she speaks makes me more determined to do exactly the opposite of whatever she’s hoping for.
“You lack the necessary training and experience,” she continues, her tone taking on a lecturing quality that sets myteeth on edge. “The responsibilities attached to this position are not theoretical concepts or romantic notions. They require discipline, extensive magical education, and years of practical experience. Stepping into that role unprepared could destabilize the delicate balance that protects this town.”
“Systems like the wards you mentioned?” I ask, allowing a note of challenge to creep into my voice.
“Yes, precisely,” she replies. “Ruby Springs depends on magical balance and stability. The Anchor position is not ceremonial, it requires actual power, actual knowledge.”
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter either way, Aunt Lenora,” I say, letting a note of false casualness enter my voice as I prepare to lie through my teeth. “I don’t have any magic to speak of, so I wouldn’t have any effect on the wards one way or another. But I’ve decided I’m staying in Ruby Springs permanently.”
I watch her face carefully as I deliver this fabrication, curious to see how she responds to the idea of a non-magical Thorne taking up permanent residence in what should be the Anchor’s territory.
She inhales sharply, the sound carries in the quiet evening air, and her eyes shift away from mine as if she suddenly can’t bear to look me directly in the face. When she turns her attention back to me, there’s something different in her expression, something that might be guilt or fear.
“That would be extremely unwise,” she says, her voice dropping just low enough to sound like a warning.
“Why?” I ask simply, genuinely curious about what objection she’ll voice next.
“Because you do not understand what you would be stepping into,” she replies, her voice carrying an undertone of something that sounds almost like threat. “There are forces at work here, complexities and dangers that someone without proper training couldn’t possibly comprehend.”
“I understand enough,” I tell her quietly, letting steel creep into my voice. “Enough to know that something important was taken from me, stolen when I was too young to fight back or even know what was being lost.”
Lenora’s face tightens into a scowl before she smooths it away. It’s quick, but enough to confirm every suspicion that’s been building in my mind. Her arms fall to her sides as if she’s readying herself for confrontation, and I can practically see the masks dropping away to reveal something much more dangerous underneath.
Lucien repositions himself beside me, Ezra and Maceo adjusting their positions as well, creating a wider protective semicircle around me without making their movements obvious. The air itself seems to thicken with tension, and I find myself wishing desperately that this would be the moment my suppressed magic decides to make an appearance. Of course, there’s nothing, just the same empty space where my power should be.
“You should be very careful about making unfounded implications,” Lenora says, taking a step forward that brings her right up against the barrier keeping her from the manor’s property, her voice carrying a note of genuine menace now.
“I didn’t make any implications,” I reply calmly, though my heart is racing. “I simply stated a fact. You’re the one who reacted as though I had accused you of something specific. Do you know something about my situation that I don’t?”
