“I appreciate what they’re trying to do. But I don’t want to hand over my power to them.” I shake my head, cradling my aching hand against my chest. “I don’t want to hand over my sisters, either.”

“And marrying Finniswhat you want? Not just a last resort against the Sisters?”

I meet her eyes without hesitation. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

Marianne nods and pinches the bridge of her nose as though warding off a headache. “Will you ask him to come downstairs, then? I have an idea, but I think it might take both of us to convince him.”

I climb the stairs to their flat and let myself in. Their sitting room is cramped but cozy, with a little fire burning in the grate. There are chrysanthemums in a glass jar on the end table, a basket of socks for darning beside the chair, and books piled helter-skelter. The juicy smell of roast beef drifts in from the kitchen and makes my stomach rumble.

Finn’s lounging on the sofa, staring at the floor instead of the book in his hands. He jumps to his feet when I enter.

“May I see your book?” I ask. He hands it to me. A collection of essays.

The magic tugs at me, invigorated by my nerves.“Commuto,”I say, and the book disappears, replaced by a bouquet of fuzzy-headed gold chrysanthemums.

“I’m a witch,” I say. I’m tired of feeling ashamed for the way I was born—a witch, and a woman. I’ve done the best I could with it, blessing or curse.

I raise my eyes to his. Despite Marianne’s reassurance, I still expect fear. Anger. Instead, he takes the chrysanthemums from me, studying them from every angle, then lets out a low whistle. “That’s amazing.Youare amazing. I’ve never seen—for all the talk the Brothers do of magic, I’ve never seen it.”

“I—I can do more,” I say, hesitant. I focus on the cup of tea on the side table.“Agito!”

The teacup floats across the room and into my hands.

“Good Lord,” Finn whispers. “What else?”

“Mind-magic. But I’ve only used it to keep my sisters safe.” I look at his smiling freckled face. I’ll tell him everything except what I did to him. And if we can find a way to make this work, I’ll spend my life making it up to him. “Are you—does it scare you?”

“No. I trust you, Cate.” He takes me into his arms, fierce and gentle at the same time.

“I wanted to tell you before. Weeks ago, when you showed me the register and talked about how you’d protect your mother and Clara, I wanted to tell you everything. I’m—I’m glad you know.”

Finn grins. “So am I. I love you—all of you. Your stubbornness and your prickliness and your witchery and your bravery.”

I laugh through the grateful tears blooming in my eyes. “You love my stubbornness?”

“And your laugh. And your pointy little chin. And your gorgeous hair,” he says, tucking a wayward strand behind my ear.

“My hair’s not gorgeous. Maura’s—” I stop. I need to learn to take compliments without comparing myself with my sisters. “I love you, too. I want to marry you.”

Finn pulls back. “I want that, too. More than anything. But I don’t see how—I’d do everything I can to protect you, but you’d be under more scrutiny from the Brothers. And people will talk. You’re marrying beneath you.”

“Don’t say that! I’d be proud to be part of your family. You have no idea—your mother has been so kind to me. Kinder than I deserve.”

Finn seizes my mouth in a long, drugging kiss, and my arms twine around his neck. “I take it she’s not worried about my virtue, if she sent you up here alone.”

“No. Actually—” I take a second to catch my breath and settle my hands back at his waist. “Your mother wants to see us downstairs. She said she has an idea.”

In the bookshop, Marianne sits behind the counter, her eyes rimmed in red. She waves off Finn’s concern. “It’s the end of one dream and the beginning of another,” she says, twisting the ruby ring on her finger. Finn and I stand in the center of the shop, a row of bookshelves concealing us from the passersby who might look in the windows. Finn holds my hand.

Finn squints at her. “It’s not the time to talk in riddles, Mother.”

She smiles. “This is the last day Belastras’ bookshop is open for business. We’ve had a good run of it, but I believe it’s time to close our doors.”

“What? No.” Finn drops my hand and strides forward. “You can’t make that decision without talking it through with me.”

“Technically, my dear, I can. I’m the proprietor.” Marianne keeps her voice light.

“Why now? What does this have to—” Realization slowly dawns over Finn’s face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as a cemetery,” Marianne promises, standing up and patting his shoulder. “You may do whatever you like, but you can no longer be employed as a bookseller.”

“I’m not following,” I admit, feeling dim.

Finn swipes his hands through his messy hair. “She wants me to join the Brothers.” He turns back to me, leaning against the counter. “Brother Ishida came by last night to offer me membership. He sweetened the deal with a job in the secondary school, teaching Latin. Your father’s old position. They made the offer contingent on joining the council in Brother Elliott’s place.”

“No.” I shake my head. “It’s—You love the shop, both of you. You can’t give that up for me.”

“The shop’s already out of the equation,” Marianne reminds us. “Besides, Clara and I would be a good deal safer if Finn were a member of the Brotherhood. I’m far too old to be carted off to prison, and the Brothers don’t seem as though they’ll let up anytime soon. If Finn was stern enough to put his own mother out of business—why, that’s just the sort of man they’re after. And they would never suspect his wife for a witch.”

“Sheisright,” Finn says. “I could afford a wife on a teacher’s salary. It wouldn’t be grand, but—”

“I don’t care about that,” I interrupt. “I just—I won’t have you hating yourself for it. It’s too much. You’d have to arrest girls like me. Take them away from their families and lock them up in Harwood. They’re hardly ever real witches, Finn. Even if they are—it’s not right. You know that.”

Finn takes my hand in his. “I wouldn’t relish it, Cate. In fact, I’d hate it. But if this would keep you safe—” His voice catches. “You’d sacrifice yourself to protect your sisters. Let me do this for you. For us.”

I bite my lip. It feels like too much. I should refuse him.

I should but I won’t.

“What’s to stop them from hauling me off to New London tomorrow? Once Elena confirms I can do mind-magic, I don’t think she’ll let me stay in town for another two months,” I point out.

“The Brothers take the ceremony of intention very seriously,” Marianne says. “It’s a commitment before the Lord, almost as important as the marriage vows. It’s rare, but occasionally, girls get a bee in their bonnet and ask for special permission to move up their intention ceremonies. The Brothers are so used to girls dragging their feet about it, they’re happy enough to oblige.” She gives me a grim, determined smile. “You could announce your betrothal to Finn early. Say—tomorrow?”