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Then crossed out so violently the paper had nearly torn.

A door slammed somewhere below. Power rippled through the walls.

“She knows I took it,” Delia said. “You need to go.”

“Come with me.”

Fear flashed across her face. “I can’t. My little sisters are still bound to the coven. If I leave, she won’t punish me. She’ll punish them.”

The truth hurt because I understood it. Jacqueline never needed chains when love made better leverage.

I closed Delia’s fingers around the locket. “Put it back before she sees you.”

“Carrie...”

“Protect them. That’s not cowardice.”

Tears brightened her eyes before she pulled me into a hug fierce enough to wrinkle both our robes.

“Whatever she asks you to choose,” Delia whispered, “remember that she had a choice once too.”

She slipped away through the servants’ corridor.

I stood alone beneath generations of Fortman women, all painted with the same rigid spine and unforgiving mouth. Somewhere in this house was proof that my mother had once smiled like a girl in love. It was also proof that someone had taught her to regret it.

It didn’t excuse what she’d done to Logan.

But I wondered whether her cruelty had begun as fear.

Then the ritual chamber doors opened by themselves.

I found her in the ritual chamber.

I had only been permitted to enter the room twice before. The first time was when I came into my magic at sixteen. The second was when my mother named me her heir.

Spells older than Texas and the country itself covered the walls. An intricate mosaic of obsidian and moonstone dominated the floor, depicting the first witch to cast a curse.

My mother stood in the center, her back to me, her crimson robes pooling around her feet like blood.

“Carolina,” she said, not turning. “You came.”

“You summoned me.”

“I did.” She turned, and her face was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came before a storm. “Your vampire came to see me last night. Did you know?”

“I knew he was coming. He told me afterward what he’d asked you.”

“He begged.” Her lip curled. “On his knees, in my parlor, apologizing for a year-old insult. Pathetic. Sentimental. Exactly what I’d expect from someone so weak.”

“He’s not weak,” I said, my voice steady. “He was trying to protect me. To make peace. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she smiled. The smile was thin and terrible, and it made my blood run cold.

“I’ve made a decision,” she said. “About you. About him. About all of this... unpleasantness.”

I said nothing. I simply waited to see what fucked up choice she’d come up with.

“You want him,” she said. “You’ve made that abundantly clear. You’ve defied me, betrayed your coven, thrown away your position, all for a clumsy, broken vampire who couldn’t show me basic respect.”