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Adola reads it and her brows draw together. There’s a glint of real sadness in her eyes. She stares off.

A tightness tries to well up in my chest, but I stand and pace, stoking my rage instead. Someone did this. When I find them, they’re dead. My toushana, still weakened, stirs. There aren’t many potential culprits. It was someone here, with guesthouse access. Someone who talked to my mom enough for her to believe they were trying to help her. I read the words again.

“It makes it sound like she was a prisoner here.” Which is a very different story from the one Charlie and Beaulah painted.

“I’m so sorry, Quell. I don’t know what to say.” She offers to hug me but I don’t move, so she wraps around me. “Deep breaths. You’re so strong. You’re going to get through this.” She pulls over a blanket. “You’re so cold. Can I put on a fire?”

I walk past her and run a cold bath, opening the window to let the autumn wind inside. She watches, her calmness uncanny. The longer I soak, the stronger I feel. And the bruises on my fingers begin to fade. After some time, I climb out of the tub and find Adola writing at her desk. She stands.

“Are you hungry?”

“For blood.”

She swallows. “There are no right things to say after something like this, I’m realizing.” She hooks her hands. “Maybe try to think of things that give you hope. Like the beach.”

A chill skitters up my spine.

“You like the beach, right? The sand and the sounds of the water.”

“When did I tell you I liked the beach?”

She goes pale. “Y-you must have told me. Something about how you and your mom loved it.”

“I never told you that.”

Adola trembles.

“Talk.”

She sighs. “I shouldn’t have lied. Charlie saw me with her, and I was worried that only made things worse. And then when I saw you and my aunt getting closer, I worried you would tell my aunt anything I told you.”

I don’t believe my ears. “Sit.” I push her into a seat. “The whole truth. Out with it.”

She pulls at the threads on her dress as she talks. “I met your mom one evening at a private dinner my aunt hosted for her closer friends and family. Afterward, Rhea approached me—”

Hearing about her memories with my mother feels like a dagger in my chest.

“She told me that I reminded her of you. That was our only interaction for a while. Then I noticed she hadn’t been around. Charlie was keeping her at the guesthouse, not letting her wander the grounds. So I visited her and that’s when we talked about your love of water and sand. And how she had this whole trip planned once you left your grandmother’s.”

My whole body quakes.

“Charlie caught us chatting and he shooed me away. I never saw her again. And next thing I know, my aunt told me she left.”

“You’ve held this back, all this time. I trusted you. I tried to help you, relentlessly!”

“I’ve learned in this House to not ask questions, alright!” She storms away, raking a rough hand through her hair. She starts to cry but it only kindles my anger more. How is she the one who gets to be sad? Her chin slides over her shoulder, and she starts to speak but stops.

Toushana hums beneath my skin. My fury rises with each step. I’ve been played, lied to, by all of them.

“Did you write this note?” I hold it in front of her face, seething.

“No! I would never. I didn’t even know she was interested in leaving.”

“Who else was my mother communicating with?”

She shakes her head.

“Who? Charlie, Yagrin, Jordan? Whoever it was earned her trust enough that she believed that note.”