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“You’re suddenly sentimental about House piety?”

She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth, wondering how much she could say. “I just want to see them.”

His eyes narrowed in mirth. “I’m watching you, Emilie.”

She elbowed him for calling her by her middle name. She wanted to pull back the veil on her plan, but it was a risk. “There is one other thing you can help me with.”

“Yes?”

“Could you steal me some of those orange chocolate bars Crafter Kendor makes?”

* * *

The caelum doors were locked. A sign that hung from the door read Closed for Renovations. Priest Offices Temporarily Relocated to the Temple Garden. Nore peered through the glass at an endless sea of books and jerked the handle again. But it didn’t budge.

Ellery tapped on the glass, two books to return in hand. Her brother shrugged.

She grumbled. “Oh, come on. Don’t you need to swap out your books?”

“Just doing a bit of research. It’s fine.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “I’m just really glad you’re home.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Nore peered through the glass again. “There has to be a way to get in there without breaking in or alarming security. Isn’t there some kind of magic you can use?”

“I’m an Anatomer, Nore, and a fair Shifter on a good day. Not a genie.”

She moved him out of her way and inspected the doorframes. If there was a way in, she was going to find it. But the more she thought about it, the more the Caelum didn’t make sense. Would her mother keep a key she may want to use frequently in a busy workplace? Winkel, priest to the Sage, spent half the moon’s cycle in prayers with students in and out of his office all day. Nore sighed.

“Even the furthest ends of possibility have their limits. Some things are finite.”

Yes, but library access wasn’t one of them. “That’s what the Order believes about toushana. But I’m going to get rid of it.”

“Only further proving that you belong in this House.”

“Does she?” Her mother’s voice panged through her.

When she turned, the air in Nore’s lungs froze. Isla Ambrose stood about her height, with dark gray hair pulled straight back in a tight ponytail that stopped just past her shoulders. Nore tugged at her own hair, making sure it covered her earrings. Her mother wore a Cultivator’s ring, and a thin silver diadem hovered above her head. She wore a plain gray wool dress, a simple but regal gown that had been drained of life and color, like an overcast sky that had never seen sunshine.

“What are you doing here, Nore?”

She watched for some hint of relief in her mother’s surprise, but she was a blank slate.

“In less than five years, on my twenty-second birthday, I’m your replacement, the House laws say. Where else should I be?”

“I’ve given up on you. I know you certainly have given up on yourself.”

Engaging her mother was like lying down to sleep in anticipation of a recurring nightmare. Nore stiffened but mustered the best inflection she could and said, “Well, you’re wrong. I haven’t. I’ve decided to come home and make those twenty years of trying to produce an heir worth it.”

“Twenty-six,” her brother corrected. “She had me after twenty. A son. A grave disappointment.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of the droll undertone to her brother’s words, but she liked that he seemed to have her back in front of their mother, at least.

Her mother stared with the knowing of a dead Ambrose. “You’ve always been a bad liar, Nore.” Her expression was unreadable. Nore had never seen the woman smile, let alone been hugged by her. “Do not embarrass the family or I will donate your body to the ancestors.”

“Mother.” The sharpness in her brother’s tone arched their mother’s brow.

“Only a joke. Calm down, Ellery.” Her steel-gray stare slid to Nore. “You will continue your studies with your tutor at dawn. Remain as unseen as possible on the grounds until—”

“Until you get this poison out of me.”