“When she came home from Harwood, she didn’t remember any of us at first. She’d only talk to Jake,” Rory says. Jacob is Brenna’s brother, a gentle tower of a boy.
“M-mustn’t ask questions,” Brenna stutters. “You’ll be punished!”
Another shiver presses along my spine, but this one has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with Brenna’s creepy chatter.
“That’s enough. Keep her quiet,” Sachi orders. “We didn’t come all the way out here to listen to her nonsense. Cate has something to tell us.”
“Hush,” Rory says, putting an arm around Brenna. Brenna is several inches taller, but she bends like a reed, all the energy draining out of her. “Sit.”
They all crouch on the cold marble dais around Mother’s tomb. Brenna stares into the darkness, her eyes unfocused. Sachi draws her knees into her chest and buries her face in her cloak. Only Rory seems unaffected by the cold, bouncing in her seat like a child.
Now that the moment’s here, I feel awkward.
What happened in the secret room—and then again at the gazebo—it’s private. What should I say? That now I’ve seen how brave and loyal and handsome Finn is, I can’t un-see it? That his kisses make me reckless? That I can’t bear the idea of giving him up, even if marrying Paul would protect our reputations? I need to know how to keep control of the magic, even when I don’t feel entirely in control of my own heart.
I only wanted to ask Sachi, not an audience of three. But I need answers.
I kneel on the cold grass, the dew soaking through my cloak. “Twice now, I’ve cast without intending to. On Monday it was powerful—much more so than usual. I couldn’t reverse the spell by myself.”
“What were you doing right before?” Sachi asks. One long black braid falls over her shoulder. “When I first started manifesting, strong emotions made my magic go awry. There were some very close calls around my father.”
“Ah. Well. I—actually, I was—” How does a lady admit to lustfulness?
Brenna laughs softly, and I want to crawl behind the tombstone with mortification.
“Stop it,” Sachi says, swatting her on the shoulder.
“Don’t touch me,” Brenna hisses, leaping up. She scales the tomb behind us, perching at the top like an eerie gargoyle.
“Oh, good Lord,” Sachi says. “Brenna, come down from there. It’s disrespectful.”
“I can hear very well now,” Brenna calls. “Go on! Tell us more about the kissing!”
“How—?” I turn to Rory, amazed.
“I told you, she knows things. Besides, you said it had to do with a man.” Rory gives me her rabbity smile. “He looks as though he’d be quite good at it.”
“He does?” Of course I find Finn handsome—devastatingly, distractingly so. But somehow I didn’t imagine that he’d be the sort Rory would—
“Oh yes. I’ve never kissed anyone with a mustache,” Rory admits, her face perplexed. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever have the chance now. Does it tickle?”
A mustache? But Finn doesn’t have a mustache.
It wallops me over the head. Paul did. She thinks I’m talking about Paul. They’ve seen him flirt with me and ferry me home from services. They’ve heard the gossip. He’s hardly been subtle.
It’s easy enough to let them think it. I’m not ashamed of Finn. I don’t care whether Sachi approves of the Belastras or not. But I don’t see any point in correcting their assumption.
“Rory! Don’t jump to conclusions,” Sachi scolds. “Not everyone is as shameless as you.”
Above us, Brenna sings tunelessly, kicking her legs.
“No, it’s true. That’s what prompted it. Both times,” I admit.
“More than once, was it?” Rory crows.
My face flushes, but I plow on. “Both times, I felt—well, I felt—”
“Lustful,” Rory says. “Wanton. Shameless!”
I flush hotter. “My feelings were—quite intense. I imagine that’s why the magic went wrong. But I can’t risk that happening again. How do you control it?”
Rory takes another long sip of sherry. “I don’t,” she says.
I throw my dignity to the wind. “Tell me, Rory, please.”
Rory scowls, her dark eyes defiant. “I don’t know how to control it and I don’t particularly care to learn.”
“What do you mean? Doesn’t Nils notice? He could tell his father and have you arrested!”
“Nils is generally more focused on other things.” Rory smirks. “Sometimes I cast without meaning to, like you said. But more often my magic goes dormant, and I can’t cast for hours after we lie together.”
I didn’t expect that Rory’s courtship with Nils was entirely chaste—after all, that’s why I sought out her advice—but I’m still shocked that they lie together. I’ve heard of girls who’ve gotten with child and been forced to stand before the Brothers in their shame. I pluck a blade of grass and twirl it through my fingers. What would it be like to lie with a man? I think of the freckles spread over the muscles of Finn’s forearms, over his calves, on the back of his neck, and wonder what it would be like to see more of him. All of him.
“Love-drunk,” Sachi says scornfully, eyeing the bottle in Rory’s hand. “Except, of course, you don’t actually love Nils.”
Rory glares and tilts the bottle to her mouth. She holds it there, her throat working until it’s empty, then tosses it aside. It knocks against one of the small gravestones next to Mother’s. “Do you hear the frogs, Brenna? I’m going to go look for them.”
Brenna leaps down to follow her cousin. As she passes us, she gives Sachi a fearsome look. “You’ll be the one to ruin Rory.”
Sachi jumps to her feet, furious. “What do you know? You’re mad as a March hare!”
“I know too much,” Brenna says, her throaty voice sad. “They’ll kill me for it.”
The hair rises on the back of my neck. Sachi and I exchange wide-eyed glances. I summon up my courage. “Wait,” I say, and Brenna stops trudging toward the gate. “Did you see my godmother? Zara. Was she in Harwood with you?”
Brenna nods, her hands tugging at her hair in distress.
“Can you truly see the future?” I ask. “Do you know what I should do?”
“Yes—and no. I’m broken.” Brenna heaves a great, mournful sigh. But she paces back to me, standing very close—so close I can smell the sherry on her breath. My palms tingle. Am I really asking advice from a mad, drunk oracle? She peers down at me with her strange eyes. “You’re lucky. He loves you. But the crows—oh, the crows don’t care for love. No. It’s always duty with them, isn’t it?”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sachi mutters.
Brenna reaches out and grabs the front of my cloak in both hands. Her voice is urgent. “You can stop it. But not without a sacrifice.”
I trip away from her, sprawling on one of the baby headstones.
Brenna runs off, and Sachi pulls me back to my feet. “There are not many things in life that frighten me, but she’s one of them. I wish Rory would stay away from her.”