“I’m quite fond of Maura,” she continues slowly. Her chocolate eyes never leave mine. “I wouldn’t want to see her come to any harm. Unfortunately, those who run the Sisterhood—they subscribe to some rather Machiavellian notions. They wouldn’t harm her irreparably, but they aren’t above using her as bait.”
I whirl around, my heart pounding like a drum. Enough. “Leave Maura alone. It’s me. I’m the one you want.”
Elena peers up at me. “I’ll need you to prove it. I can’t trust you, Cate. I believe that you’d lie to me, even now.”
I ball my hands into fists. “You pretend to be her friend, but you don’t care about her. The only thing you care about is the damned Sisterhood.”
Elena’s hand twitches up, as though she’s tempted to slap me. “I’mnot the one putting her in danger—you are. If you’d just cooperate—”
My nails cut crescent moons in the center of my palms. “What do you want me to do?”
Elena’s smile is serpentine and triumphant. “You can start by meeting me this afternoon for a lesson in mind-magic. Half past two, in the rose garden.”
“Half past two,” I agree, cursing her. “And if I prove that I can do it, you’ll leave Maura and Tess out of this?”
“Insofar as it’s in my control, yes,” she agrees, cagey as always. “If you prove that you’re the prophesied sister, and if you agree to join the Sisterhood and play your role in the prophecy, we’ll keep them safe for you.”
It’s not much of a promise, but it’s better than nothing.
“Fine,” I snap. What choice do I have?
I tell Mrs. O’Hare I won’t be having breakfast. I can’t stand to see the smug look on Elena’s face—not without hurling the china at her. I grab an apple from the kitchen on my way out the back door. All around me, the autumn air is as crisp as the apple. Fallen leaves drift across the path, crunching beneath my boots.
I stop beside a bed of blowsy white roses. Their plot needs a weeding. I listen for the sound of hammering up at the gazebo, but I suppose it’s too early for Finn yet. My shoulders slump. Perhaps it’s just as well.
Giving him up would be a heavy sacrifice—is that what Brenna foresaw? It’s far more than anything Mother asked of me. I know a life with him would require sacrifices, too—learning to cook, to sew, to make do with twice-turned dresses. But if I could be with him, living in the Belastras’ cramped flat would be like heaven. I could still see my sisters, still practice magic with Sachi and Rory, still visit my garden when I needed to get away from town and all its gossiping tongues.
New London is so very far away.
But if it would keep my sisters safe—what I want can no longer matter.
I drop to my knees, wrap my hand around the stem of a stubborn weed, and yank. Five minutes later, there’s a pile on the path next to me. The plot looks much better, and I feel a good deal calmer. I glance at the next plot over—wine-dark roses in front of the Cupid fountain, just beginning to bud again. They could use some attention, too. I scoot over, humming to myself and smoothing the rumpled soil.
A shadow falls over me. “Stealing my job out from under me?”
My heart beats faster at the sound of his voice. “You can help if you’d like.”
Finn kneels next to me, keeping a careful distance. We’re in full view of the kitchen window. “You wouldn’t mind the company?”
I smile at him, besotted. At his cherry lips and freckles and warm brown eyes. “Not yours.”
“You love this, don’t you?” he asks, gesturing at the flowers. “Not just the pretty result, but the work.”
“I do.” Mrs. O’Hare is always fussing at me about it. I never remember my gloves, and she’s always going on about ruining my hands and getting dirt under my nails. Personally, I do not see how a little dirt hurts anyone. “I find it satisfying, leaving things better off than when I started. And I don’t like being cooped up inside.”
“I see that.” He rubs the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “You’re beautiful, you know. I’ve been remiss in not telling you that more often. Like a modern-day Pomona. Or Venus—she was the goddess of gardening and fertility before she became the goddess of love.”
He holds my eyes for a moment—long enough to turn me flushed and prickly—then begins to untangle the bindweed that’s twisted its way through the roses. I rock back on my heels, watching his fingers move, gently separating the leaves.
He’s so tempting. When I’m with him, I want to forget all about prophecies and obligations and sisters. I want to be a normal girl in love.
I move to sit on the lip of the fountain, trailing my hands behind me in the cool water. “What do you love?” I ask.
“Pardon?” He cocks his head at me like a parakeet.
“I garden. Tess bakes. Maura—” Maura dreams of escape. I shake my head, refusing to go down that path. “If you didn’t have to work here, if you didn’t have to work at the bookshop even, how would you spend your time?”
He takes a minute to think. “Cooped up inside, probably. Before my father died, I’d planned to go to university. There isn’t much of a market for independent scholars these days, but I’d like to do my own translations of the myths. Orpheus and Eurydice is one of my favorites. Baucis and Philemon. All of Apollo’s exploits.”
I know those stories; they’re the ones Tess has been studying with Father. “Well—you can still do your translations, can’t you?” I ask, plucking a stray leaf from the fountain.
“I try. It’s hard to find time.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, remembering that I’m not the only one who’s suffered a loss. “About your father. That must have been awful.”
“It was very sudden. I don’t know if that made it better or worse. Mother’s been a rock, but I know it’s been hardest on her. I try to help where I can.”
“I’m sure you’re immensely helpful.”
Finn runs a hand over his already-rumpled hair. Does he even bother to comb it in the morning? “Perhaps. I wish there were more I could do.”
I feel a great surge of protectiveness. I have enough worries of my own, I know, but somehow I want to take his on, too. “I want to know what worries you. I want to knowyou. Everything. Your favorite flower. Your favorite foods. Your favorite book.”
Finn smiles. “There’s plenty of time for that.”
But there isn’t! I haven’t got any time left at all. Once Elena confirms that I can do mind-magic, will she even wait for my intention ceremony? Will I get to see him again before I’m shipped off to New London?
My mood darkens. I lean forward, yanking at more hapless weeds. A branch of the rosebush breaks under my careless hands. I snap it off and hurl it across the garden.
“Cate? Did I say something wrong?” Finn stands, hovering over me uncertainly.
“No. It’s not you.” A muscle tics in my eyelid. I press the back of a hand to it.
Perhaps the Sisterhood won’t be so bad. They’ll protect us from the Brothers; they won’t send us to prison or the asylum. They want to help girls like us. Can I really blame them for their ruthlessness? I’d do anything to protect Maura and Tess, even if it hurt other people. The Sisters feel the same way, only their scope is much bigger.