Whoever had done the work was a true talent. Her mother looked just like she did in Thia’s photographs, her eyes that piercing green, her hair that glorious red Thia had always envied. In the portrait, she was serene, seated in this very library, a book in one hand, light dancing from the tips of her fingers on the other.
Magic.
Confidence lined Melina’s shoulders and the tilt of her chin. Her full lips quirked with a hint of amusement, her hair in ringlets that rivaled Thia’s own, though she wore them much wilder than Thia did.
A stranger. That’s who this woman was, someone fierce and glorious and maybe even a touch feral. Nothing like the carefully contained façade her grammy had invented. Nothing like Thia.
“My Melina,” a voice said, and Thia nearly dropped the candle.
She spun. Lord Sagan stood just behind her, clad in a white nightgown, a navy robe atop it.
“Or perhaps I should say yours,” he amended.
Thia’s fingers clenched around the candlestick. “I never knew her. She’s more yours than mine.” She marched forward and scooped up the parchment, then presented it in the space between them. “What does this have to do with my mother?”
He took it and smoothed it out on the table, squinting. “Forgive me. My sight is not what it once was.” He beckoned for the candle and when she held it out between them, his breath hitched.
“Tell me.”
He searched her face. “It will only put you in danger.”
She set the candle down, its light flickering across the table. “I am already in danger.”
He traced the parchment’s looping scrawl with one knobby finger. “Your mother was executed over this.”
Executed. Not killed. Not a car crash.
“Please,” Thia said, feeling like the floor was slipping out from under her.
“You’re curious, like her.”
“I need to know.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “I met Melina twenty-five years ago. She was barely into womanhood, but a true talent. A near endless well of power. I offered to train her immediately.”
A thought occurred to Thia. “Was my mother from here? From Eldris?”
The Magician looked at her with a touch of sadness. “You’re from Kansas?”
Thia nodded.
“So was your mother.”
She didn’t know if she was relieved or not.
“But she visited this realm frequently,” Lord Sagan continued. “Eventually with that husband of hers in tow. Jason.” His lips twitched into the barest smile. “What a pair they were. He had nothing of her talents, but he was one of kindest people I’ve met.”
Thia was afraid to move, afraid to speak. Was this why her grammy had lied? Had she…had sheknown? Not just about the portal. But where it led. Who had made it.
The fire in the attic—she’d thought it was too perfect a circle. Magic.It’s not like it’s real,she’d said. Her grammy hadn’t agreed. No, she’d struck Thia to keep her away from it.
Yes, Thia was certain. Her grammy knew everything.
She gripped the table, struggling to stay upright.
The Magician continued, oblivious to Thia’s internal spiraling. “The last time your mother was here was a little more than sixteen years ago. She was distressed, frantic. She claimed the Mage King had taken Jason as leverage against her.” He breathed a deep sigh that shuddered his whole body. “I didn’t understand, of course. What would the king want with her? I’ll admit her power was fearsome. But the king, for all his faults, has never been an envious man, so long as he has obedience—Callista’s freedom is proof of that. Then Melina revealed a secret she had long kept from me: she was not of this realm.” He smoothed his long beard. “And that is how I came to learn of Kansas, and how I realized what the king suspected.”
She had come here on purpose, even knowing of the danger. These were not the actions of the grounded do-gooder Grandma Winnie had always described. They were the actions of someone reckless, someone selfish.
