I wouldn’t have tried to steal it in the first place. There were lots of other more portable valuables around our property. Plus that was Mom’s piano. But Dad wasn’t looking for that answer. “Stripped the keys and turned them into necklaces to wear on special occasions.”
“I will give you a necklace. Six ounces, gold,” Dad said in a decisive voice. “You deserve it for your work today.”
I thought of the chandelier. He hadn’t seen the ceiling yet. Plus I knew he liked those statues, and several of them were most likely damaged. The vase was certainly beyond salvaging (though it wasn’t gold so he might not care). “I made a mess.”
He sighed. “Your mother made a mess. We are simply doing the best we can with the pieces that she left behind.” He pushed himself out from under the desk and stood up. Around us, the screens were now showing different views of the house, including the foyer. Tuck was sweeping the broken glass into a trash can, and Charles and Liam were pushing the Sir Francis Drake statue back up onto his pedestal. Charles had taken off his shirt, because he likes his muscles the way a toddler likes his teddy bear.
“Do you hate her?” I asked. “Is that why we aren’t trying to find her?”
“Emotions have nothing to do with it,” Dad said. “Believe me when I say that it is for the good of the family.” I wanted to ask more, but his tone was final. “You don’t need to come to my office while I speak with your brothers. You should go, help yourself to…popcorn, isn’t it?”
I nodded and wondered how he knew. I didn’t think he’d been paying attention either when I’d talked about my plans for tonight, or that he knew it had been exactly one month since Ryan had stood in the middle of all the wyverns gathered for the ritual of the Reckoning—including Emma, Emily, and all the wyverns I thought were my friends—and denied me. “With lots of butter.”
He almost smiled again, which would have been the second time in a single conversation. He used to smile all the time and laugh, a big booming guffaw that echoed through the house. Mom had taken that with her, when she left. But then the smile faded, and he was as serious as a shadow again. “You need to forget that boy exists. And forget about your mother. They betrayed our trust, and all that is left is to move forward.”
I looked into his eyes, up because he’s nearly two feet taller than I am. “Are you? Moving forward, I mean. Can you forget?”
Dad studied me, as if he were deciding what answer I was ready for. I wished I dared yell at him to just tell me what he wanted to say! “Of course not. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting better for you. You did nothing to deserve any of this.”
I felt a lump in my throat. My fathernevershowed vulnerability. He was as solid as the walls of a vault. “Do you want…” I swallowed.
He waited for me to finish.
“…popcorn? I can share.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely. “May I have a rain check? I have work to do and sons to scold.” Shocking me again, he kissed the top of my head and then strode out of the security room.
Turning, I watched him on the cameras as my stoic, always-strong father paused alone in the hallway and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNINGwas, shall we say, tense. I wished I’d stayed in my room and polished off the rest of the popcorn, rather than allowing myself to be tempted by the lure of Tuck’s made-from-scratch pancakes. (I love pancakes. I am deeply suspicious of anyone who doesn’t love pancakes.) Dad sat at the head of the table, and my brothers and I sat on the sides.
Mom’s seat wasn’t just empty; it was totally gone.
The first breakfast after she disappeared, I’d come down, seen her empty chair, and burst into tears. Dad had promptly removed it, which was arguably worse—I’d cried harder. Now I simply didn’t look at the empty spot. None of us did. Or at one another, because eye contact could lead to conversation, which could lead tofeelings,and no one wants those. Especially not before noon.
Tuck breathed on a plate and crisped a few strips of bacon. He passed it to Liam, who passed it to Charles, who passed it to me. One was left by the time it reached me. I drowned it in maple syrup and decided bacon was worth the awkwardness. I also took another pancake.
Midway through the pancake, Dad broke the silence, because that’s what he does. “Liam, I need you to buy a new protection spell from Maximus. Extra fire resistance up to 3,500 degrees, liquid form so we can mix it in a paint, for the foyer. Take Sky with you.”
“But Sky—”
“Did it sound like I wanted a debate? Sky knows how to behave herself.” He leveled a look at me. “Sky, you’re to let Liam take the lead. Your role is observation only. Maximus is touchy—ever since he lost his wife, he has been increasingly erratic. But he’s one of the few wyvern wizards who will still deal with us, so we’re stuck with him. Both of you, try not to alienate him.”
I stuffed my mouth with blueberry pancakes so I wouldn’t say anything to accidentally change Dad’s mind. My brothersneverlet me come on family business. I couldn’t help being a little excited about this. First Dad had showed me the security system, and now he was sending me out to meet a wizard. For observation only, but still it was a start.
Humans have known about wyverns since King Atahualpa revealed our existence in 1533, but the fact that a few of our kind are also wizards is a closely guarded secret. (Honestly, though, you’d think more of them would have guessed. Merlin, for instance, hadn’t exactly kept a low profile.) Anyway, allowing me to observe a bargaining meeting with one was a big deal. It meant that Dad trusted me.
Liam shot me a look. I could tell he’d rather be accompanied by a Gila monster than bring me along. I wanted to say it wasn’t my fault that (a)no one had told me they were being tested and (b)no one had noticed I’d come home. It was, granted, my fault that I hadn’t followed procedure and gone to the safe room, but so far no one had pointed that out, probably because it was obvious that Dad didn’t disapprove.
Charles was refusing to meet my eyes at all, pretending that I didn’t exist, which I thought didn’t match his oh-so-mature attitude. And Tuck was shooting me glares in between stuffing his own mouth with pancakes.
Maybe enough maple syrup would lighten all of their moods.
Or maybe they were just looking for someone to blame for everything that had gone wrong over the past month.
I knew who I blamed.
Mom.
