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Blair shook his head, tucking the letters back into the box and sliding it under the bed.

A sudden thought popped into Iris’ head. “Have you been secretly writing a novel in your journal?”

Blair shook his head again. “I don’t actually love narrative writing the way most novelists do. At least, I assume they do.”

“Why did you write all of those books then?”

He stared out the back window at the now overcast sky. “I suppose I was just passing the time until I was allowed to live my own story. It certainly wasn’t for the money. My mother locked down my bank account, promising I wouldn’t be allowed to draw from it unless I learned to control myself.” He turned to Iris with an embittered expression. “At least with my apothecary sales, I’m permitted access to my own capital.”

Iris frowned. She didn’t want to criticize Jocatta too much, but that kind of control was unforgivable. “You have to talk to her. That’s your money. She can’t keep holding it out of your reach.”

“I will. At some point. At least now I’m making enough to help with rent. I’ll give you a lot more once I’m able to get into the account.”

They sat in silence for a prolonged moment, watching the murky sea lap against the shore. Iris scooted closer to Blair and reached for his hand. “Do you feel like you’re living your own life now?” she asked, her voice gentle as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” She could feel Blair swallow, and she squeezed his hand tighter. “I finally do.”

Rain thrummed against the windows, and a low rumble of thunder fought to be heard over the crashing waves. Iris tossed from side to side, unable to get comfortable. The grand canopied bed was too firm, the blankets too warm, and the day had given her far too much to think about. She imagined using a sifter to let the finer details slip away in order to bring the more significant moments into greater focus.

Dinner with the Saltonstalls hadn’t been nearly as awkward as she had feared, mainly due to the presence of Espirit and her family. Her husband Gérard was especially friendly, his bright Parisian accent breaking through the somewhat standoffish atmosphere with enthusiastic questions about Iris’ work as a dental receptionist—he also worked in the medical field, as a nurse at a hospital in the heart of Paris—and queries about the kinds of ingredients Blair was experimenting with for his medicines and skincare products.

Espirit, who worked in magazine publishing, regaled them with stories about how the industry had changed over the decades from the time when she first started her career in the nineteen forties. While she described changes in subscription rates since the dawn of online media, her boys swung their legs, listening with rapt attention to Blair’s whispered tales about tiny jewel-toned dragons who darted across passerby's feet on the cobblestones of London, the great stone gargoyle protectors of Notre-Dame, and water fairies who sailed on lily pads within the magical forests of New England. Iris tried hard to listen to these imaginative stories while not being rude to Espirit. Blair was more expressive around the twins than Iris had ever seen him, clearly a doting uncle.

She fantasized about hopping on a plane with Blair to visit Espirit’s family in Paris, maybe in spring to see the cherry blossoms…but then she envisioned an unexpected complication, like someone stealing her seat or luggage, and Blair being unable to control his response. She began to understand just how much his condition held him back; how though he was no longer trapped in the attic, he was still a prisoner within himself.

The mattress gave a resentful groan as Iris rolled over onto her other side, her hands tucked under her left cheek. Her mind rewound to that morning when Blair had told her about the day he was kidnapped. Unless she was missing something significant, it seemed obvious to her that Blair and Lucy had been the ‘weapons’ the witch had brought with her to test within Gabriel’s supposed safe haven, just as Gabriel had feared. Iris felt sick just thinking about it.

She supposed the only comfort was that the witch couldn’t still be alive, or Gabriel would surely be afraid of encountering her again…right? Iris had gotten the impression that the only sorcerers Gabriel feared were council members who had opposed his decision to pursue immortality. Although, that had never made much sense, either. Those individuals should be long dead, given that they were so against the idea of everlasting life.

Iris pulled the blankets up to her chin, a dull ache pulsing through her head. The more she tried to make sense of things, the more her thoughts felt like fragments of exploded planets in space, random and impossible to contain.

One thing she knew for sure was that Gabriel needed to come clean with Blair about his connection to what happened all those years ago at the witch’s hands. She knew Gabriel understood the gravity of what he’d done, but the fact that he hadn’t expelled the witch the moment he became aware of the pain she was inflicting was difficult to reconcile with the morally upstanding man Iris knew.

It wouldn’t be a comfortable revelation for Blair to hear but keeping it from him would be infinitely worse.

Unable to lie still a moment longer, Iris threw off her covers and slid out of bed. She paced around the room for several minutes, her footsteps muted by the soft rug covering the floorboards, while the glow from an eerie blue nightlight glimmered off the chandelier above her head. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she wandered over to the window and gazed out at the ocean.

Blair’s parents hadn’t skimped when they’d installed the impenetrable fence around the perimeter of their home. It stretched like iron arms not only across the whole front of the property, but also the back, reaching several yards into the dark waves before finally cutting off in what must have been fairly deep waters. Iris had never seen anything so imposing and at odds with the natural landscape, but after what had happened to Blair, she couldn’t blame his parents for their abundance of caution.

She was about to turn away when she spotted movement on the shore; a lone shadow stood in the murky half-light of the cloud covered moon, just visible through the rain splattered windowpanes. Iris squinted through the fog that hovered above the water like a vaporous cloak. Waves crashed, thunder rumbled, a far off howl sounded—but the figure remained still and silent, facing the gunmetal water that lapped at their feet.

Iris pulled a sweater over her nightshirt and quit her room, silently closing the door before padding softly down the stairs. By the dim glow of a plug-in lantern, she located her jacket on the heavy, carved coat rack and slid it on, shoving her feet into her ankle boots before slipping out into the night.

She shivered as she made her way down to the shore, wishing her jacket had a hood as the icy rain raced in rivulets down the back of her neck. When she was close enough to be heard over the waves and rain, Iris halted.

“Come here often?” she asked the shadow’s back.

His shoulders were sloped slightly, but he straightened at the sound of her voice and turned to her, his face in half light, half darkness, like an angelic yin-yang symbol. As the clouds parted, the moon lit one of his mist-gray eyes, the curve of a crescent smile. He reached out a warm hand and Iris grasped it. She inhaled the fresh salty air. The rain didn’t chill her bones the way it had just moments before. The thunder had subsided too, though she could still hear the distant howls of some local wolves.

After a moment, Blair’s quiet voice broke their silence. “She was my sister. Seized as a small child for suspected witchcraft. After all this time…but I think, somehow, I already knew.”

An ache settled deep in Iris’ chest. “Oh, Blair. I’m so sorry.”

“So many secrets…” His words trailed away, his eyes on the waves as they retreated only to crash toward them in a cadence as old as time.

Iris had many more questions, but she knew she should wait to ask them. She wrapped her arm around Blair’s waist and leaned against his shoulder, and after a moment his arm snaked around her, too.

“The worst part is, everyone knew but me. Even Venetia and Espirit. I’m sure my mother had her reasons for keeping the truth from me. She always does. My father just goes along with whatever she decides. I’m afraid I inherited his lack of a backbone.”