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I lean my cheek against the side of the telephone booth, feeling the press of the grimy, salt-stippled glass. “So, you found the mirror, and decided to what, play out an ancient folktale?”

“I guess that’s one way to describe it. We got hopelessly drunk and took the mirror into the tidal caves. And when Therion answered our call, it felt like a miracle.”

I close my eyes, remembering Camille, Alastair, and me calling to Therion in the woods. The bitter scent of smoke and the taste of stolen wine. How it felt to lose control, to be swept away. I can imagine how my brothers felt on that first night. The terror and wonder of falling into the dark, landing in the presence of a god.

“We didn’t understand what it would truly mean, even when we agreed to perform the ritual he gave us. Therion wanted someone to be his for the rest of their life; it was all so abstract, until we saw you rise from the sea. We didn’t know how much we would love you, Lark.”

Oberon breaks off, his voice choked. I realize that he’s crying. I feel sick, awful, as Henry takes the receiver from him and continues the story. “In the boat, you cried so loudly that it echoed from the cliffs. But when I lifted you out, you curled against me with so muchtrust. Like you already knew we were your family.”

I struggle for a way to respond to this, but I have no words; I’m fighting back tears.

“We went to Marcus Felimath and told him our parents had died,” Henry goes on. “And he offered us another loan in addition to their debt. We decided to take it, to see if we could make things work without… without giving you up.”

“Then the next salt season came,” Oberon continues, his voice rasped by tears. “You were just starting to walk, to say our names. And I—we couldn’t do it. We couldn’t send you to such a fate, commit you to Therion forever, when your life had barely begun. We agreed to wait until you could decide for yourself. And we couldn’t tell you the truth—our agreement, the debt, your birth—because we wanted you to have a normal life.”

I laugh, incredulous. “A normal life—after you wished me up from the sea, and were counting down the days until you told me I was betrothed to our god? I suppose it was a relief when I went to Marchmain, because then you didn’t have to lie to my face every day.”

“We were trying ourbest,” Henry says sharply. He takes a drag from his cigarette; I hear the crackle of the coal through the line. “We wrote to you, and we waited for you to come home in the term break. Wemissedyou.”

I close my eyes, trying to shut out the rise of memories—how I’d slept with their letters beneath my pillow, how I fought off my homesickness while I spent my days with Damson before everything soured between us.

I know how the story goes from here. “You sold everything you could. You managed to cover the debt. Until Alastair took over from his father.”

I look to where Alastair is waiting for me with Camille, near the general store. Camille is sitting in the car with the window opened, Alastair leaning down to speak with her. At the sight of them both,fresh tears fill my eyes. I turn away, staring at the blurred glass wall of the phone booth, forcing myself to stay held together.

“When you found us that night in the tidal caves, we were asking Therion to change his mind,” Oberon says. “But then you went back to him and agreed to be his bride.”

“I suppose in the end you got what you wanted, then,” I tell my brothers. I feel as hollowed out as one of the shells laid on Therion’s altar. “It was my choice to go to him after all.”

“Lark,” Henry says, and he’s crying, too. “Lark, we’re so sorry.”

I can’t remember the last time Henry ever cried. He’s always been so stoic and calm, the opposite of how my emotions rise and fall like the tides. He and Oberon were just boys when they went to Therion and made their promise, boys who were orphaned and afraid. I feel so betrayed by the secrets they’ve kept, so lost for how to parse out the fact of my birth alongside the way they’ve raised me and loved me.

“I need to know how to undo it,” I say. “The promise I made to him. If there’s a way to unbind myself from Therion.”

I hear one of my brothers trying to gather his breath, steady it beneath the sobs. The other, blowing his nose. There’s a long, troubled silence and finally Henry speaks.

“Lark, sweetheart, I don’t think you can.” His voice is foggy with tears. It’s so strange to hear him like this, so undone. He sounds like a different person. “You were born from his magic, and you’ll always be connected to him. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a life of your own.”

My fingers tighten around the receiver, gripping it so hard that my knuckles crack. I’m numbed, like I have plunged beneath the coldest waves of the North Sea. I’m too distant to even be furious, like I know I should. I feel as though I’ve witnessed my own death.

That’s exactly what it means, I want to tell Henry. Yet somehow I can’t form any words.

Oberon comes onto the line. “We only have a few more days to finish organizing the crew,” he says, “and then we’ll be home.”

Behind me there is the sound of footsteps as someone approaches the telephone booth. I turn, expecting Alastair or Camille. Instead, there’s a boy—dressed in patched trousers and a fisherman’s sweater, the strap of his canvas satchel slung across his chest. At first I think he’s a stranger. Then my whirring mind sets the pieces of him together—the angle of his shoulders, his height, the glint of his blond hair.

I clamp my hand around the mouthpiece of the phone as I gape at him. “Hugo?”

Hugo Valentine pushes his blond curls out of his eyes. He dips his chin in acknowledgment.

“Lark,” Henry says questioningly from the other end of the line. “Is everything all right?”

I take a deep breath, trying to gather myself. Unable to look away from Hugo—the Salt Priest who sealed my ruin. His pointed chin, the serious lines of his mouth. Finally, I manage to respond to my brother. “I’m all right, Henry. It’s just been a confusing time, that’s all. But I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, Lark,” he says quietly. “We both do.”

“I love you, too.”