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“Magdalena, I can’t speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself. And as Nikola’s descendant . . . I’m sorry. Truly. You didn’t deserve any of this. What he did was wrong.”

I swallow, pushing my shoulders back. “I know what it’s like to feel you don’t belong. When I came, I hardly knew anything about this place, my own family. I felt like an outsider who could never truly fit in. And then it got worse—people spread rumors about me. I was told to stay away. I thought about leaving, abandoning this place like my mom did. But I refuse. Others, them, you, don’t get to decide who I am. I do.”

I take a step closer to Magdalena. “You can decide too. You don’t have to let the past, what others did to you, rule what you do. The truth isn’t hidden anymore. Everyone knows what happened. They know this was your home once, and it was taken from you. That your life was taken from you. You don’t have to prove anything with your revenge. Maybe now, you can finally have peace. You can rest.”

A hush settles over the crowd as I search Magdalena’s face, desperate for any sign of recognition, some hint of humanity in her deep chestnut eyes. Her mouth tightens, as though she’s considering my plea. Hope stirs to life inside me.

Davor’s furious voice shatters the moment. “This is ridiculous!” he growls, brandishing a long branch. In a swift motion, he swipes a lighter from his pocket. Horror seizes me as he sets the dry twigs ablaze. Before I can react, he tosses the burning branch at Magdalena’s feet, where it quickly flares and spreads.

My plan has failed; the people have found their monster and now they only wish to watch her burn.

As the flames grow, I rush to the back of the tree to untie Magdalena, but just as I grasp the chains, Davor shoves me, hard. I tumble to the side, but someone catches my fall. Luka steadies me before lunging at Davor, punching him square in the jaw.

A brawl ensues, with more men lunging at Luka, wielding burning branches to stoke the flames. I weave back toward Magdalena. Any moment, it will be too late; the flames are already licking the hem of her skirt.

A sharp yelp pierces through the mayhem. I turn just in time to see a man stumble and fall, the fiery branch in his hand slipping from his grasp. It arcs through the air—not toward the tree where Magdalena is tied, but toward a bush of lavender. Everyone pauses, suspended in fear, as the dry flowers ignite into flames.

Seizing the moment, I scramble the rest of the way to Magdalena, my hands shaking as they fumble with the chains. Frantically, I search for a way to free her and finally spot a hook holding them in place. I pull at it, and just as it comes loose, Davor crashes into me, dragging me away.

But it’s done. The chain falls. Magdalena is free.

Davor leers down at me, rage boiling in his face. “You bitch!” he snarls, lunging forward. But before he reaches me, a flash of red flies between us. Magdalena is suddenly there, shoving Davor away. He flies backward, falling to the ground. Before I can even comprehend what happened, if Magdalena was helping me or simply lashing out at Davor in anger, she vanishes, disappearing as quickly as she came. Is that all? Is she gone for good?

There’s no time to consider the possibility. As I straighten, my heart stutters to a halt. The fire has spread rapidly, engulfing a quarter of the lavender field already, blazing toward the house. Screams erupt as people scatter in all directions. Everything is chaos.

Luka comes up beside me, his nose bloody. “C’mon,” he urges, tugging at my arm. “We have to get out of here.”

“Where’s Karmela?” Panic seizes me as we both search the area, skirting the roaring flames. All the guests rush toward the road. But there’s no sign of my grandmother. Did she get hurt? Is she lying on the ground somewhere, unable to escape?

Then, in the distance, I spot her black gown flitting through the upheaved tables at the head of the field. Only, she’s not running toward the road to safety like everyone else.

She’s running into the house.

Thirty-Seven

Petra

July 2026

“Karmela!” I call, dashing inside the house, Luka right behind. A clatter of pans immediately draws us to the kitchen.

Karmela stands at the sink, filling a large pot of water. “Help me,” she pleads. “We have to put out the fire before it reaches the house.”

Luka and I exchange panicked glances. I can tell by his grim look that he’s thinking the same thing. “The fire is too big. We have to get away.”

“We’ll call for help,” Luka adds. “As soon as we get out of here.”

“There isn’t time,” Karmela snaps. She turns off the water and struggles to lift the pot, full to the brim. “Petra, come help me.”

“Karmela, please.” I dash to her side, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “We have to go now.”

“No. This is our home. If we lose it, we will have nothing.” With a grunt, she heaves the pot off the counter, but the weight makes her stumble. I lunge forward to catch her, and we both fall to our knees as the pot clatters to the ground.

“Are you alright?” I ask. The floor is drenched, soaking both our gowns.

“Yes,” she says quickly, reaching for the pot. But I take her hand, clutching it tight. “What you said isn’t true. Even if we lose the house, we’ll have each other.”

Karmela meets my gaze, her light eyes wavering with fear. Then a sob bursts from her lips, her whole body shaking. When she speaks, her voice is raw, choking with regret. “I could have left. I could have gone after Marija. But I didn’t. I chose this house. I chose to stay here.”