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Once I get the go-ahead from Xeran to use magic on the house, I wake up each morning with a renewed sense of purpose.

I clean the rooms efficiently, fixing holes and patching things up, sweeping dirt right out the windows, then cleaning the windows until they shine and let in all the beautiful natural light.

Out back, I discover a decrepit, overgrown garden and realize it looks like it’s been dead for much longer than the house has been empty.

It must have belonged to Xeran’s mother.

Gently, I bag up the husks of the old plants and find new seeds in a garden shed to plant, not using my magic to encourage their growth but using it to ensure the soil is rich with nutrients and that they’re watered properly.

Nora joins me for most of the projects, and I realize she’s getting the same sense of satisfaction I am. It reminds me of when my grandmother first died and we moved into her place, going through it room by room, slowly making it our own.

In the garden, we end up using the same plotting as we did for our own, planting tomatoes, peppers, strawberries, watermelon, and pumpkins. I eye the edge of the property and wonder about planting cherry and apple trees. We never had room for fruit-bearing trees at my grandmother’s house.

The garden takes us several days to finish, and when a heat wave comes, we move our work inside again.

“Look at all these books ,” Nora whispers when we push open the door to the next room on our list. Xeran has been calling this one his father’s study, but I’d argue that it’s more like a library, with several large shelves of books towering into the high ceiling, where skylights let in the bright, orange afternoon sun.

There have to be at least a thousand books in here—books on pack law, wolf biology and natural inclination, leadership and development.

Say what you want about the Xeran’s father, but he was dedicated to being a good alpha supreme.

He studied for the role like he might have to do an interview for it someday, or have to prove his qualifications.

“Yeah,” I cough when some of the dust in the air finds its way into my throat. “And a lot of cleaning to be done.”

Together, we wipe down the impressive mahogany desk, finding that the drawers inside are empty.

Most of this house is empty, actually, like someone came through and cleared the rooms of their personal belongings just after Xeran’s father died.

There are no old coats hanging in guest room closets, no discarded notes in the drawers of this desk.

Nothing but the books to show the personality of the man who once made this room his home.

We take all the books off the shelves, and Nora insists on sorting them alphabetically by author. After dusting each shelf, I polish them off, and we return them to their spots. Mostly, we’re quiet, but while we’re finishing up the last shelf, Nora turns to me, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Mom,” she says matter-of-factly, “this place is a lot nicer than our old house.”

I laugh from my place on the ladder, where I’m magicking my rag into the back corner of the farthest shelf. “Yeah, well, the Sorels have a lot more money than Grandma ever did.”

“No, I mean, it’s bigger and stuff, but I like… I like that we’re out here.”

When I glance down at her, I understand what she means. She likes that there are no nosy neighbors to peek over our fence and watch what we’re doing. She likes that there are no block parties happening in the street that we certainly don’t have permission to attend.

“Yeah,” I agree reluctantly, not wanting to let myself think about what it would be like to stay since that’s never going to happen. “It’s definitely a lot better than being in the suburbs.”

***

I don’t mean to take a nap after we finish with the library, but I’ve been pushing my magic harder and harder since the day of the fire, and I need the rest.

When I wake up, it’s with that slightly fuzzy, disoriented feeling. The sun is already down at the horizon, the sunset almost over, and it casts the room in a soft purple light that will soon disappear into nightfall.

At first, I expect to see my room at home, then I remember that the house is gone. Following that, I look around and realize Nora isn’t with me. I sit up, heart pounding as I go look for her.

Hearing her voice at the end of the hallway, I follow my ears to her and peek around the corner into the study.

It looks completely different than it did this morning.

This morning, with the layer of dust, cobwebs in the corner, and streaks on the windows, it all looked gray.

Now, it’s washed with golden light, several of the candle sconces on the walls lit, their flames dancing and casting lovely shadows over the walls and shelves, glinting off the golden words on many of the books.

Nora and Xeran sit in the back of the room near the large bay window that overlooks the mountains in the distance. Their heads are craned down as they study the chessboard between them.

“I could see how you might think that the right move,” Xeran says, leaning forward, his voice low and calm as he points to the board for her, “but part of the game is thinking several moves ahead. So try and tell me what you think I might do next.”

“Well…” She pauses, tilts her head. “If I move my queen, then you might move your horse—”

“Knight.”

“— knight. And if you move him over here, then you—oh. You’d have check.”

“I’d have check mate . See the bishop here?”

Nora laughs, shaking her head and dropping it into her hands. “I’m never going to be good at this.”

When Xeran laughs, too, reaching across the table and touching her shoulder gently, the sight of it twists my chest, and I have to swallow through the lump in my throat.

“Hey,” he says, a chuckle coming from his throat as Nora raises her head. “I was just like that as a kid. This is the first time you’ve ever played—you don’t have to be perfect right away. You’re already picking it up a lot faster than other kids.”

“Really?”

“Well, that’s an educated guess. I don’t know a lot of kids, but I don’t think many of them are even playing chess.”

“Hmm,” Nora says, working her jaw and staring down at the game. “Let’s go again.”

“Okay,” Xeran laughs. “You take white. But I’m telling you right now, it’s going to be a long time before you ever beat me, kid.”

“I’ll accept that challenge.”

As I stand in the doorway quietly and watch Xeran coach her through another game, it almost feels like my brain is lifting from my body.

Without meaning to, I’m thinking about the moment, all those years ago, when I knew I was pregnant.

My first instinct was to call Xeran and tell him.

To ask him to come back and take care of me.

But I wasn’t sure if he would.

Actually, I knew that he would have come back—out of obligation. Out of duty. But I wasn’t sure if he would ever love our child.

Ever love me.

And if we’re not mates, that means that Xeran could have a real mate out there somewhere. And I could never subject my child to the reality of watching their father have another family. A family that he naturally, biologically, would have loved much more.

So I said nothing, and I had Nora take her pills, and I still haven’t told Xeran the truth.

I think about the way he pulled me into his arms after the incident with my mother. How he’d comforted me. What would it have been like if I reached out to him back then and asked for his help? Would he have returned and taken care of me? Fallen in love with our baby?

Just as quickly, my brain provides me with the memory of the day he rejected me publicly in front of basically every single student at our school. When he made it perfectly clear that we were not mates, and that it was laughable I would think so. A Sorel would never be mates with a Winward.

So maybe even seeing him like this, with Nora, was still a good call. Maybe I can’t handle one more painful, crushing rejection from Xeran Sorel.