Chapter One

One week passed and then another since Verve had promised to return to Letorheas, the land of Faerie. The longer she remained with her family, the more convinced she became that she was safe and not a danger to those around her.

There was little time to worry about what was not, she told herself. The bills needed paying, and she was the most fit to work and earn them a living since Father had been murdered. Not that anyone – well, anyone human – besides her younger sister Helena believed him to be dead. Mother and Davinia still held on to the hope that Father would return and things would go back to normal.

They wouldn’t. Father had been killed by Dacre, a fae lord who wanted the Cunning Blade, the only weapon capable of killing high fae. Fortunately, the blade had been destroyed and could no longer benefit anyone evil. Unfortunately, Verve had absorbed all of its powers, which made day-to-day living a challenge, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Not for the first time that day did she touch her face, making certain her mortal appearance was holding. Without it, her ears would be pointed, her face would be pale and glowing, and others would see that her eyes were not quite human. Her hand brushed a sticky barrier, and she was reassured she would appear normal to anyone who might intrude upon her solitude.

Verve sat in the attic in the stifling heat of late summer, sixteen months since she had promised her fae husband, Fenn, she would summon him and they would leave Etterhea – the mortal realm – together. The story she was writing would not co-operate, as her mind was pulled in a million different directions: Fenn, home, her strange powers, and pretending to be normal were chief among them.

“Where is Verve?” asked Dav. Verve could hear her youngest sister all the way down in the kitchen. She imagined Davinia’s fair brow puckering and a golden lock falling across her face. “She said she would walk with me to town.”

Anna, the Springers’ housekeeper, stirred a pot of jam on the stove as she waited for their bread to bake. Verve’s hearing picked up the monotonous clanking of the wooden spoon against the metal sides of the pan. “Leave her be. She’s working on her latest story.”

Dav snorted, and Verve accidentally snapped her pen in two.

“Blast,” she said, for she was now covered in ink. After a quick look around, she put both ends against each other and they joined together with a satisfying click. As a result, the air smelled of hot spun sugar, the smell produced after she had used magic, an odor also known as a residual burst. A quick wave of her hand took care of the ink, though it made her hands tingle with the need to use more of her power.

“She’s always writing these days,” Dav complained. “She might as well run off and be a governess again.”

Mother sighed, and Verve set her pen down before she could do any more damage to it. “I would not complain so loudly, Davinia. She’s helping us out from under all those bills, after all.”

There was a pause and Verve moved away from her desk. This was one reason it was so hard to write: she could hear every blasted noise in the house and the surrounding area. Sometimes, she heard conversations in her neighbors’ respective homes and even as far away as town. Those instances tended to come upon her when she was tired and her guard was down, making sleep nearly impossible. Not that she needed sleep much these days.

“I think there’s a man,” said Dav.

“Oh, do you, now?” said Anna. “You’ve seen one around, I reckon? Perhaps tucked between her books?”

“You can tease all you like, but she’s moody and more unpredictable than ever. Someone’s on her mind.” If only she knew.

On the floor below the attic, Helena stirred. The poor girl had caught another cold and wouldn’t let Verve help make it better. Hel was the only one of the family whose memory couldn’t be tampered with, and thus she knew what Verve was. Being a middling – a middle child – gave her the ability to resist certain magic, such as memory spells. It wasn’t true of every middling, however; Verve herself had had her memories tampered with when she was still mortal. Verve wished she or Fenn could cast that particular spell on Hel, as the girl remembered her short yet horrible captivity in Letorheas. Midras, the fae king, had held Verve’s family hostage, hoping to exchange them for Verve’s power. It had not ended well for him.

Verve shuddered and ran a hand over the gooseflesh on her arms. She’d better go down and check on Helena and then stop her family from gossiping; they might alight upon the truth, and she didn’t trust herself to tamper with their memories without Fenn’s help.

She was on the bottom stair when she thought she scented limes. Her heart’s beating quickened. He can’t be around. I haven’t heard from him in months. Though curious to see what she might find belowstairs, she stopped and rapped on Helena’s door. “I’m going down to the kitchen. Do you need anything?”

Silence.

“Water? Some fresh juice? I think Anna’s cooking with limes again.”

There was a sigh on the other side of the door. “I’m fine, but you need to tone it down. They’ll suspect you’re different.”

Verve pulled a face and checked her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her magic was still muted, as she had felt earlier. Fenn had reluctantly taught her how to disguise herself. “You mean my voice?”

“I can…feel you. Even through the door.”

That made Verve scowl. “I can hardly help how I make people feel.” She paused, knowing she oughtn’t be cross with her favorite sister. “I’ll try to rein it in.” With that said, Verve turned and went downstairs. She’s still getting used to the new you. Be patient with her.

Pasting on a smile, Verve entered the kitchen, where Anna was removing bread from the oven. The old cook looked up from her work and grunted. “Oh, good. You’re done writing. Now you can take Davinia to town and stop her from pestering me.”

Verve sniffed again, having caught another whiff of limes. “It smells wonderful in here. What all did you make?” Without having to look, she saw, in her mind, Dav roll her eyes and set aside her charcoal drawing.

“Blackcurrant preserves, which you can easily see bubbling here on the stovetop,” said Anna, giving the pot a stir. “And brown bread.”

“Did you make anything with limes?”

Anna frowned. “Limes? Dear, there are no limes to be had here, save for what your sister bought pickled from the shop.”

Could that be what I smell?

Dav apparently could wait no longer to be attended to. “Verve, you said you would walk to town with me. You know I ought not go by myself and sully my reputation.” She rubbed her nose, leaving a black smudge where her fingers had been.

“All right.” Verve dipped a finger into the jam and licked it.

“Don’t burn yourself,” warned Anna, eyeing Verve warily. “Are you all right? You…you seem strange today.”

Verve checked a grimace. If Anna noticed as well, Verve hadn’t expended enough of her power. Fenn had warned her if she left too much unused, it would seek other ways to escape. But I used so much last week. “The duke is about to propose, but someone’s beat him to it.”

“Not your stories again.”

“Enough, Davinia,” said Mother, not looking up from her crocheting. “You shouldn’t speak to your sister like that, especially since she’s agreed to do something nice for you.”

Cheeks crimson, Dav rose from the table and would not quite look at Verve. “I thought there might be a real man. And don’t say you’ll never marry, because I know there’s someone you fancy.”

Oh, the things Verve would like to say in response. Instead, she found herself counting backward from twenty, trying to regain control over her temper, which always led to magical mayhem, usually in the form of fire. “I truly don’t aim to marry.” …Because I already am married. They were not to know, however. “Now, do you want to go to town or continue arguing about my lack of a romantic entanglement?” She quirked an eyebrow at her youngest sister and headed for the door, remembering then that she had neglected to put on her gloves. I’ll just be extra careful not to touch anyone.

Before Verve had triumphed over Dacre, the fae lord had managed to curse Verve, making it perilous for anyone to touch her skin if they didn’t share a blood bond with her. Since Verve had already been remade into a fae, her familial blood bonds had been broken, and her kin were in danger of harm should their skin make contact with hers.

“Wait.” Dav hurried after Verve, smoothing out her golden hair as she ran. She caught up with her elder sister and attempted to thread an arm through hers, but Verve managed to sidestep her at the last minute. “All right, Miss Touch-Me-Not.”

Verve cringed and magicked a pair of long gloves onto her hands while Dav wasn’t paying attention. “We’re looking at dresses and not buying anything.” As convenient as it would be to make money out of feathers as she had seen done, Verve didn’t trust herself with the details. That and it was a morally questionable thing to do.

“Yes, I know. But just because we’re too poor to afford the latest fashions, it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy looking at them.” She stepped around horse droppings and picked up her pace to match Verve’s. “What are you really writing about?” It wasn’t like Dav to be so perceptive…or so interested in Verve’s fiction writing.

“What makes you say I’m not writing about the duke and his conquests?” In truth, she had given up writing romance and mysteries and was trying her hand at fables. Her family knew about her quitting mysteries; she had sworn off the genre when no one believed her about Father. But romance? She should not even think about it.

Dav shrugged. “What you write tends to reflect what mood you’re in, and lately, you’ve been nothing like your old self.”

At the words, Verve’s pace slowed. “Helena said as much.”

“You’re not leaving again so suddenly, are you?” Dav pursed her lips and looked up at Verve. “I know we don’t get along as well as sisters ought, but it wasn’t the same without you around.”

A lump formed in Verve’s throat and she swallowed around it. “That’s not part of the plan. You know I love—”

“Oh, I forgot my hat,” said Dav suddenly, turning on her heels and running. “Go on without me. I’ll see you later.”

Frowning, Verve watched her sister run back home. What’s gotten into her? Verve turned and began the short trek after her, but she caught a whiff of citrus borne on a breeze and froze. “Using magic on my sister isn’t fair,” she said below her breath, loud enough for the fae she sensed behind her to hear. She felt his gaze boring into her back, but she didn’t turn, didn’t want to see the disappointment and anger in those dark eyes that haunted her dreams.

“How else was I to get you alone?” asked Fenn.

Verve rolled her eyes. She sensed him moving nearer and knew she should leave. There was nothing to be said, nothing he could do to convince her to abandon her family, no matter how much he insisted it was for the greater good. But her feet didn’t seem to want to co-operate.

Before she could blink, his arm ensnared her waist and he pulled her off the road and into the woods surrounding. “You’re doing a poor job of hiding,” he said, gently pushing her up against a rather wide oak.

Now she did dare to meet his gaze and was surprised by the lack of judgement she found. There was a hint of anger, though she could be mistaking it. “What brings you here?” Verve meant to keep her tone light, casual, but Fenn seemed to have different plans for their reunion.

His eyes darkened to the edges, and his skin began to glow golden. “You know what brings me here, Verve.”

“No.”

Fenn licked his lips. “Come with me.”

“I don’t want to.” She dropped her gaze.

He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers, bending over quite a-ways in order to do so. She’d forgotten how impossibly tall he was. “I could make you want to.”

A pleasant chill went down her spine, and she stopped a shiver just in time. “My family needs me.” Verve jutted out her chin, hoping to end the discussion.

Fenn sighed but didn’t pull back. “I need you, wife.” He twirled a strand of her reddish blonde hair around one of his fingers and kissed her eyes closed. “Letorheas needs you.”

That made Verve snort. She opened her eyes and glared at Fenn, whose hands had found their way to her waist. “What could that realm possibly need from me?”

“You killed its king.”

Verve squirmed, not wishing to think about Midras, but Fenn held her fast. “I had no choice,” she said.

“There is a balance to things, Verve.” He kissed her cheek. “You left us leaderless and lacking in power. First the blade—”

“Stop.”

“Then the king. Then Dacre.”

Her stomach churned at the mention of the fae who had imprisoned her the previous year after killing Father. The horrible man had fallen in love with her, in some twisted sense of the word, and had attempted a painful ritual to turn her into something he could use as a weapon. He’d succeeded in part, changing her into a half-fae. But most of her abilities now came from the Cunning Blade.

Fenn was relentless in his lecturing. “You can’t take so much power out of Letorheas and expect it to run like it ought. It needs you, Verve.” His grip on her waist tightened. “Come home.”

But Verve was already shaking her head. “I can’t. Don’t ask me to.”

“Middlings are going missing.”

That made Verve pause. “Why middlings? And what has that got to do with me?”

Fenn gave her a searching look. “They’re going missing from Etterhea.” Fenn pulled his face away from hers. “Everywhere I go, I hear murmurings of strangers, talk of young men and women gone missing. When I look into the matter, it’s always a middle child who’s been taken.”

“Fenn—”

“They’re connected, Verve. And they’re a fae’s doing.” His brow furrowed, and it took all of Verve’s self-control not to reach up and smooth out the lines of worry. “You could be next. Or your sister.”

Verve flinched at the mention of Helena. “I can protect her.” Her hands moved to Fenn’s and she attempted to remove them from her waist, but didn’t know how to do so without breaking his fingers.

“You’re practically a beacon, you know,” he said. “My wards can only keep out so much. One of these days, someone is going to find or create a hole, and I can only hope I’m there before….”

She wanted to tell him to stop worrying, to keep to a topic and stop hopping from one subject to the next; it was making her dizzy. There was no opportunity to say anything else as he pressed his lips against hers.

This kiss was needy, desperate, not the tender one she last remembered receiving. Verve responded with the same urgency, having not touched another living soul since the last time their paths had crossed.

His hands slid up her front, over her neck, and moved into her hair, tangling in her locks and loosening them from the knot at the base of her skull.

It would be prudent to stop him, she knew. Already she could feel the damper she put on her powers lifting. Magic pulsed in her veins, begging to be released. But she couldn’t allow herself to let it free, not here, so close to civilization. Frightened of herself now, Verve pushed Fenn back, and he went flying away from her, righting himself at the last minute ere he could hit the ground.

His eyes were fire. “You need to let it out.”

She chewed on her lower lip, drawing a bead of silver blood, which she at once licked away. “How exactly do you propose I do that?”

He approached her cautiously, as one might a feral cat. “Do you trust me?”

Her stomach flipped. “I’m not going back to Letorheas.”

“Just for an hour.” He must have known she was on the edge of declining, because he quickly added, “If you don’t, your power will find a way to escape. You could hurt someone.”

“Promise you won’t try to stop me from returning.”

Fenn cocked his head to the side and frowned. “I won’t promise that.” Before she could protest, he added, “Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to keep you there, but who knows? Maybe you’re too weak-willed to resist.” It had obviously been meant as a taunt, and Verve bristled, the reaction she knew he wanted.

Her temper enflamed, Verve knew at once she had better leave Etterhea for the suggested hour, and quickly; she didn’t want to accidentally set the wood ablaze. The thought of returning to Letorheas was not one she relished, and on instinct she looked back toward the road her home sat on. Would they be safe while she was away?

Taking advantage of her distraction, Fenn grabbed her hand and tugged her at a dizzying speed toward the nearest hawthorn tree. It didn’t take long to create a gateway. Fenn had only just pressed his hand against the silver bark when the trunk split into two parts, forming an entry to the world of fae. He nudged Verve ahead of him and ran in after.

Verve had hardly a chance to take in her surroundings – it was early evening and stifling hot – when Fenn pulled her against him. She gasped and he captured the sound with his mouth. He hadn’t brought her back to Letorheas to release pent-up magic, after all.

Fenn tumbled to the ground with her, but Verve stayed him with a touch of her hand on his chest. He froze.

She ran a hand through his dark hair. He’d let it grow down past his shoulders, and it was rather unkempt. Her eyes roved over him, and she was startled to notice he had lost weight. Dark circles ran under his eyes, and he smelled of dirt and sweat. “Oh, Fenn.”

The words seemed to break him, and he recoiled, crawling off her prone form. “I don’t want your pity. I want you.” He scowled. “But if you’re going to keep looking at me like that, we might as well fight.”

Before he could rise, Verve threw out a hand, knocking him onto his back. It felt good to use her magic, even though it was at Fenn’s expense. In a blink of an eye, she straddled him and pinned his hands at his sides, and tugged on his lower lip with her teeth.

Fenn stilled and seemed perfectly happy to lie there and let her win. His eyes were on hers, expectant, hopeful.

“You can have me…if you can catch me first.” She grinned at him and took off running, the ghost of his touch nipping at her waist.

His approach would have been inaudible, even to a fae, but Verve was different and Fenn might as well have announced his presence with a trumpet. He had run around her, probably meaning to take her by surprise and cut her off.

Without trying, Verve’s gaze bored right through the tree he was hiding behind, seeing him as clearly as though he stood in front of her. With a thought, she sent a great wind his way, bending the trunk.

There was much cursing and laughter as the wind uprooted the tree and knocked it over, forcing Fenn from his hiding spot. He gave her a lopsided grin and dodged a bolt of golden light she had released from her fingertips. Had it struck him, he would have obeyed her every whim. “You really should have left the tree out of this,” he said from behind her, yards away. “It had no quarrel with you.”

She didn’t need to look to know he was holding a rope made out of light. It shot out and would have ensnared her, had she not batted it away at the last possible second.

The rope dissolved and reformed in its creator’s hands. “You could at least have the decency to face me when we’re fighting.”

Verve turned, and he took advantage of the moment to knock her off-balance with a gust of his own. Annoyed, she allowed him to lasso her, only to seize the rope and rip it out of his hands. She smirked at him and attempted a lasso herself. But the rope had other plans. It crawled up her arm and squeezed, cutting off blood circulation and thus distracting her enough to let Fenn get closer.

He almost caught her, but she tossed him away with a mere thought, breaking his connection to the rope, which shattered in a flash of light and was no more. Again Fenn came at her, this time with a net of blue light, one that Verve tried and failed to bat away. It covered her and dragged her to the ground, tightening as it fell.

The rope the net was made of had more magical substance to it, and for a worrisome moment, Verve thought she might have lost their play fight. But one look at Fenn, who still stood a few yards away, told her he was expending a lot of energy on his magic, far more than Verve was. She didn’t need to escape the net yet. All she had to do was to keep him at bay or exhaust him enough so the net broke on its own.

“Would you like to surrender now?” Fenn stalked toward her, his eyes bright and alert.

Verve snorted as the net ceased tightening, allowing her enough room to sit hunched forward. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

He grinned. “Is that a yes?”

With a blink of her eyes, the ground beneath Fenn moved, earth and grass twining around his legs and dragging him away from where Verve sat. Now a stretch of grassless muck lay between them and a rolled-up carpet of green sat at his feet. For a moment, the netting around Verve flickered but at once solidified again. Verve caused the ground on which Fenn stood to swallow him up to the knees like quicksand, and then harden like concrete.

Fenn shook his head. “You’ve been practicing?” His concentration broke, freeing Verve from the netting.

She gulped and reluctantly admitted, “Well, Dav might have annoyed me more than she ought, and my control might have slipped while we were walking on the neighbor’s property.” A few vines from above snatched her by the wrists as Fenn freed himself from his prison.

“That’s why you need to be trained,” Fenn said, tightening the vines holding her.

Verve threw up an invisible barrier between them, effectively stalling her husband’s approach. “I didn’t ask for power.”

“And yet you have it.” He placed his hands almost reverently on the wall she had created. His eyes narrowed as he no doubt looked for weaknesses. “You’re dangerous, Verve.”

“I haven’t hurt anyone,” she countered as the tip of a vine leaf stroked her face.

“Yet.” He tapped his fingers against the barrier. It made a soft ringing sound, much like a handbell Verve had played as a child during Winter Festival. “It’s only a matter of time before you lose your temper and slip. God help the fool who’s in your way then.”

That stung, but Verve didn’t let him see how much his words had hurt her. They couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t let them be true. Verve’s temper seeped into the vines holding her, and they recoiled, releasing her and twisting in a furor as they attempted to put distance between themselves and her.

Fenn grinned and stepped through the barrier, emerging on the other side soaking wet. He shook himself like a dog, and Verve jumped back to avoid getting drenched. “You know, if you really had wanted to keep me out, you should have tried something more substantial.”

“Oh, really?” Verve raised her hands and deflected a bolt of yellow light, which bounced back at Fenn.

He leaned to the right, avoiding his rebounded attack. “Well, if you had been properly trained, you wouldn’t be focusing so hard on not hurting me.”

Verve winced.

Fenn raised his hands, his expression contrite. “I don’t think you can hurt me, Verve. I’m sorry to distress you.” For the entirety of their mock fight, Fenn had avoided using any gestures to enhance his magic. But now he surprised Verve by breaking his own personal rule. He threw his hands out, and the air filled with the scent of citrus as his magic gathered behind Verve and pushed her toward him. He snatched her around the waist and pulled her to his chest.

“You cheated,” she said into his shirt.

His whole body vibrated with silent laughter. “We never set any rules that said I couldn’t take an advantage.” He rested his cheek on the crown of her head. “Do you feel any better?”

Despite herself, a slow smile spread across her face. “Maybe.” She did feel somewhat better, as though she were not wound so tightly, ready to explode with magic at the merest touch. Verve hadn’t realized how dire things had gotten; she would have to exercise her magic more often, with or without Fenn to help her.

They stood there in each other’s arms for some time, until her breaths grew slow and even and the sky began to darken. Fenn’s fingers dug into her bodice, staying her when she stirred.

“Don’t return. Please,” said Fenn.

Verve pressed her right hand over his heart, which leapt beneath her touch. “Can you give me more time?” She tipped her head to look up at him. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but it seemed to Verve that Fenn perhaps looked less haggard than when they started.

He didn’t answer at first, his expression tightening. Then, leaning down, he pressed his lips to her forehead before whispering, “Why would I agree to that without asking for something in return?”

If Verve was in any doubt what Fenn meant at first, she was no longer when he tasted the sensitive skin of her throat. Breathing heavily, she allowed him to guide her onto the ground, and they lay there entwined until the stars came out.

* * *

When she returned to Etterhea, the first hints of morning were creeping over the horizon. Fenn had refused to accompany her back and wouldn’t make a gateway for her, something Verve had trouble with now that the trees were so afraid of her – ever since she had been transformed into the fae’s Fire Queen, a powerful being that had been prophesied ages ago. When she had once asked Fenn why, he reasoned it was because she could destroy them with a mere touch. The trees’ terror was an annoyance, but she shrugged it off as she felt her face, making certain her magic wasn’t showing.

Maplehurst’s lights shone brightly upon her arrival. Verve heard five human heartbeats within the walls and frowned. She slowed her steps and listened more closely, and was startled to hear a masculine voice she did not recognize. Not waiting to discern if it was friend or foe, Verve took off at an unnatural speed and arrived at the side door within the blinking of an eye. “Hello?” she called out.

There was an exclamation from the kitchen, and four sets of feet came rushing at her. “Oh, Verve,” said Mother, before breaking down with sobs.

Verve took a step back as Anna helped support the matron of the family and led her to the sitting room. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” snapped Anna. “Been gone for three days and she asks what’s wrong. What happened to you, child?”

“It’s really been three days?” she asked, looking at Helena for confirmation. Verve had forgotten time moved differently in Letorheas.

Her favorite sister nodded and attempted a smile, which trembled on her lips and then faded entirely. “I thought you’d been taken again,” she confided in a whisper as all the Springer women staggered after Mother. Following closely from the kitchen was the town constable, his expression turning from relieved to wary upon taking a better look at Verve.

“You gave us quite a fright, Miss Springer,” he said. “Would you care to tell us where exactly you’ve been?”

Verve sighed inwardly. How was she going to explain this away? “No harm has come to me. Why worry about where I’ve been?”

Dav moaned in the corner. “I shouldn’t have left you on the road the other day. I don’t know what made me do it.” She rested her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. It wasn’t like her to become this distraught over anything to do with Verve. Something else must have occurred.

Verve knew she should come up with a lie, and quickly. “I stayed with some friends in town. I thought I had told you,” she said.

“Then where is your overnight bag?” Anna demanded.

Looking to her mother, Verve frowned. “What has truly happened?” She waited expectantly, her eyes moving from Mother, who was still near hysterics, to Dav, and then to the constable, the only one in the room who didn’t seem ready to start sobbing.

The lawman cleared his throat. “A few women from the area went missing the same day you did. They haven’t returned.”

The hairs on Verve’s arms stood on end. “Who?”

“Carrie and Violet and some girl from town,” said Helena. Carrie and Violet were the only two offspring of Daniel and Martha Woodhouse, their next-door neighbors.

“Middlings are going missing.” But Carrie and Violet weren’t middle children…that she knew of. Had Mrs. Woodhouse lost children? The girls’ disappearance had to be unrelated to Fenn’s warning.

“Have you seen the missing girls?” asked the constable.

Verve shook her head. “No. Their poor families.” Her stomach twisted, and she felt the color drain from her face. Something was very wrong about this.

“And you say you were in town with friends?” When Verve nodded, the constable frowned. “And is there anyone who can verify your story?”

Those words roused Mother from her stupor. “What exactly are you insinuating, Officer? If Verve says she was with friends, she was with friends.” Her voice broke as she looked at her second-eldest daughter, who wanted to sink into the floor just then.

I should have never left Etterhea. Aloud Verve said, “I’ll supply you with their names and place of residence, if that will help.” She looked into the officer’s eyes and, remembering Fenn’s second lesson in magic he’d taught her, Verve pushed a false memory into the man’s mind.

The officer blinked, his expression slackened, and the air filled with the aromas of toffee and other sweets. “Thank you, Miss Springer. I should be on my way now.” He pulled his black cap from under his arm and smoothed it out in his hands. “If you see anything strange, please report it immediately.”

“I’ll show you out,” said Anna, giving Verve a peculiar glance, one that was both suspicious and fearful.

Verve’s eyes sought Helena’s, but the girl immediately looked away. Hel didn’t like it when Verve used magic, especially on other people. Thankfully, from what Verve could tell, the damper she kept on her power still held. But the way Anna had looked at her made Verve wonder if the old maid was perhaps a middling herself.

Mother held out her arms for Verve, and it took all of Verve’s strength to smile and not embrace her. At length, the woman’s expression faltered and she dropped her arms. “Are you sure you’re all right, Verve? The day you went missing, Helena and Dav mentioned you seemed strange.” Even as she studied her, Mother flinched. Innately she must have known her daughter was dangerous.

“I’m fine. Honestly.”

Dav, who was still sniffling, looked up at Verve, a frown on her face. “What friends do you have in town? I didn’t think you liked anyone there.”

A headache was forming behind Verve’s right eye. Now she wanted to be alone and think over what she should do about Fenn, who she knew wouldn’t leave her alone for long. The thought of him made her face warm, and she had to look away from Dav and the others and stare instead at the floor. “They are more acquaintances than friends, but the girls said they liked my writing and wanted to hear more of my stories.”

At her words, Helena left the room, her expression sour. The others didn’t seem to notice her departure.

“You might have at least sent a note,” said Mother. “We were so worried.”

“And besides,” said Dav, “you missed the news.”

Verve looked at her sister sharply. “What news?”

Dav tittered and Anna, who had returned with a steaming mug of tea, rolled her eyes and handed the beverage to Mother. “Old Mr. Franz is getting married. La! Can you imagine?” Dav shook her head.

“If you ask me, he’s getting a mite up in years to be wanting a wife.” Anna fussed over Mother, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of her shawl.

“I wonder whatever happened to his nephew,” said Dav. “He was such an agreeable man.”

Verve cringed at the mention of Dacre, who had only posed as the old man’s nephew to ingratiate himself with the Springer family and get close to Verve. She thought Fenn had wiped the memory of the fae from everyone’s minds, but apparently she had been wrong. “I’m sure he’s moved on to bigger and better things.” Before anyone could bombard her with more news and speculations, Verve turned and made for the staircase in the hallway.

Mother called after her, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m tired. I thought I might get ready for bed. Why?” She slowed her steps and looked around at her family.

It was Anna who spoke next. “Is gone without word for three days and doesn’t have time for her mother and sisters.” She glared openly at Verve, sparking the latter’s temper.

“Anna, what’s gotten into you?” Mother snapped.

Dav started sniffling again, further trying Verve’s patience.

She knew she needed to get away from them and quickly, before she accidentally incinerated the room. “I’m sorry. I-I’m not myself tonight, I guess. I’ll see you in the late morning.” Fingertips pulsing hot, Verve turned again and fled at a speed that must have further raised Anna’s suspicions. And she was just in time. No sooner had she entered her bedroom than her hands burst forth orange flames, which she aimed toward the log in her fireplace. The wood was immediately engulfed, and Verve held her hands over the grate until the heat went out of her temper and the fire in her hands diminished and was no more.