I exhaled. Thank goodness.

“Uncle Macon—” Reece started.

He silenced her with a gesture. “This isn’t up for discussion. If it weren’t for Ethan, you could be powerless right now—or worse. The Order was broken, and we were only beginning to see the effects. Things were headed in a very grave direction indeed. I promise you that.”

“I don’t know why we’re still talking about it, then.” Gramma gathered her skirt and ascended the stairs. “I’ll get Del, Barclay, and Ryan.”

Ridley swallowed hard at the sound of her mother’s name. Aunt Del was always heartsick when Ridley disappeared, and she had no idea her daughter was back. Or that she had returned as a Dark Caster.

I remembered how happy Aunt Del looked when Ridley lost her powers last summer. Being a Mortal was better than being Dark, especially in this family.

Reece turned to face her sister. “You shouldn’t be here. Haven’t you put everyone through enough pain?”

Ridley stiffened. “I thought you deserved a little more, Sis. Wouldn’t want to leave you hanging. I mean, seeing how you’ve always been there for me.” She said it sarcastically, but I could hear the pain. Ridley only pretended she didn’t have a heart.

I heard voices, and Aunt Del appeared at the top of the staircase. Uncle Barclay’s arm was wrapped tightly around her. I wasn’t sure if she’d overheard us or if Gramma told her about Ridley. But I could tell by the way Aunt Del was wringing her hands that she already knew the truth.

Uncle Barclay led her down the stairs, his tall frame looming over her. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed neatly, and for once he looked like he belonged in the same era as the rest of us. Ryan trailed behind them, her long blond hair swinging in a ponytail.

When Ryan and Ridley were standing in the same room, it was impossible to ignore how much they resembled each other. In the last six months, Ryan had come to look more like a teenager than a little girl, even though she was only twelve.

Aunt Del smiled at Rid weakly. “I’m glad you’re all right. I was so worried.”

Ridley bit her lip and teetered on her stacked heels. “I’m sorry, you know. I couldn’t exactly call.”

“Abraham had Rid locked up.” I blurted it out before I could stop myself. Ridley was guilty of lots of things, but it was hard to watch them judge her for something that was out of her control.

Aunt Del’s face crumpled—everyone’s did, except for Reece’s. She positioned herself protectively between her mother and her Dark sister.

“Is that true?” Uncle Barclay sounded genuinely concerned.

Ridley twisted a pink strand between her fingers nervously. “Yeah. He was a real prince.” She Kelted to me desperately. Don’t tell them, Cuz. Not now. “I’m fine,” Ridley went on, waving off her father’s concern. “Let’s worry about Ethan. No one wants to hear about me and the Big Bad Wolf.”

Ryan stepped closer to Ridley tentatively. “I do,” she said quietly.

Rid didn’t respond. Instead, she held out her empty hand.

I waited for a mouse or a lollipop to appear in her palm, some cheap trick to distract her sister from what she was now. But her hand stayed empty.

Ryan smiled and reached out her own hand, closing it around Ridley’s.

I heard Aunt Del’s breath catch, or maybe it was mine.

“If Lena trusts you, so do I,” Ryan said. She looked at Reece. “Sisters should trust each other.”

Reece didn’t move, but I didn’t need to be a Sybil to read her face.

Tiny cracks were already forming in the tough exterior Reece worked so hard to maintain. They were hard to see, but they were there. The beginning of something—tears, forgiveness, regret—I couldn’t be sure.

It reminded me of something Marian told Ethan before everything happened. It was one of her famous quotes, by a guy named Leonard Cohen: “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

That’s what I thought of when I saw Reece’s face.

The light was finally getting in.

“Lena, are you all right?” Uncle Barclay glanced at the ceiling. The crystal chandelier was swinging dangerously above us.

I took a deep breath, and it stopped immediately. Get control of yourself.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

I composed the words in my head, even if I wouldn’t let my pen write them.

bent

like the branches of a tree

broken

like the pieces of my heart

cracked

like the seventeenth moon

shattered

like the glass in the window

the day we met

I closed my eyes, trying to silence the words that wouldn’t stop coming.

No.

I ignored them, forcing them out of my mind. I wasn’t Kelting them to Uncle Macon, and I wasn’t writing a word until Ethan came back.

Not a single word.

“Amarie is expecting us. We should go.” Uncle Macon slipped on his black cashmere coat. “She is not a woman who appreciates being kept waiting.”

Boo lumbered behind him, his thick fur blending seamlessly into the darkness of the room.

Ridley opened the door, fleeing as fast as she could. She unwrapped a red lollipop before she even made it down the steps of the veranda. She hesitated for a second near the flower bed before pocketing the wrapper.

Maybe people could change—even the ones who made the wrong choices, if they tried hard enough to make them right. I wasn’t sure, but I hoped so. I had made enough bad choices myself in the last year.