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My grandmother was a liar. A murderer.

She had raised me. Lied to me. Taught me spells while secretly plotting to take down an entire kingdom.

I envisioned her hiding this letter under the floorboard with me in the next room, mere steps away.

A strangled noise burst from me, something between a cry and a sob. Hot tears flowed down my cheeks again, but these were full of anger. I gritted my teeth, biting back a scream of frustration.

So many years. So many lies.

Breathe, Cece, came Gran’s voice. You’re spiraling.

“Shut up!” I roared, snatching the broken floorboard and hurling it against the wall. It broke, sending shards of wood flying.

But that wasn’t enough. I still had so much rage. It wanted to be unleashed. I grabbed a half-broken vase and flung it. It shattered, the sound satisfying. I threw a piece of the bed frame. A broken chair. A hand mirror. Each item slammed into the wall, breaking apart just like my heart.

When I was finished, I sat there, panting, my face stained with tears and fury coursing through my veins.

In a singular moment, my entire life had changed. I didn’t know if anything I’d been taught had been true.

Where the hell did I go from here?

Well, one thing was for certain: I couldn’t sit here screaming about it forever.

I was still burning with anger, but I forced myself to stand. I couldn’t bear to be in this room any longer. I made my way down the hall and peered into my own room. It was almost completely untouched—as if whoever had killed Gran hadn’t bothered to do anything with it. My narrow bed still rested in the corner, my tan sweater draped over the headboard. I remembered laying that out, thinking of wearing it when I went into town.

Gods, that felt like a lifetime ago.

I noticed my red riding cloak in a crumpled heap on the floor. A twinge of nostalgia lanced through me. I thought for sure I’d lost it in the woods. Before I could think twice, I scooped it off the floor and draped it over my shoulders. I told myself it was because I personally loved this cloak and not because Gran had given it to me.

I almost believed the lie.

Next I went to the kitchen, sifting through broken cupboards and smashed jars to see if I could find anything useful. The vials of tonic might have vanished, but perhaps the ingredients were still here.

Within a few minutes of digging, I was able to salvage about half of the items needed to make my tonic. I shoved them in the deep pockets of my cloak, resolving to locate the other ingredients as soon as possible.

When I was finished, I strode outside to find Alaric. He stood over a gaping hole with Gran’s body already carefully deposited inside. His arms were crossed, his expression somber. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting there for me, but I was grateful he didn’t rush me. He must have heard my screams and shouts from Gran’s room, but he had let me be, somehow knowing I needed to be alone.

I went to his side, standing next to him as we both overlooked her grave.

“Would you like to say a few words?” he asked.

I gazed down at the remains of my grandmother. She was still mangled and deformed, but something about being in the darkened hole made it seem less grotesque. Less horrifying.

She’d conspired with another Mage to kill the Mage King.

She’d had the royal amulet clutched in her hand.

She had lied to me.

But… she had also raised me. Cared for me. Loved me. For my entire life, she was all I had.

A soft breeze rippled around me, tousling the loose strands of my hair. Secrets, the wind seemed to say. So many secrets.

I swallowed hard and shook my head. “No.” The word was firm, like the slam of a door. I still loved my Gran, and I always would. And perhaps I would never uncover the full extent of her secrets.

But she was not who I thought she was.

And I couldn’t bring myself to say anything about her right now. If I did, I feared I would regret it.