Page 31

Briony memorized the list of names until her eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. She didn’t know what she could do with the information, but having a sense of where her friends had scattered to the winds was good.

She crawled into bed with the piece of paper crunched between her fingertips and slept a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

In the morning, she woke to the smell of breakfast on her side table. Hot honeyed pastries, spiced sausage, and more fruit than she could eat in a week. Briony picked at the tray and took a bath.

In the wardrobe, she found more empty hangers than occupied ones.

There were two plain wool dresses in the Bomardi style, built for the cold, and two clean nightdresses like the one she’d been in since yesterday.

There was a dressing gown, pairs of stockings, plain undergarments in pale shades, and shoes for all weather.

She plucked up the underwear quickly as if it would bite her and tugged a pale dress off a hanger.

She slipped into the clothes, wondering if they were magicked to fit the wearer perfectly.

Magical fabric was a very expensive luxury—but maybe the Hearsts’ wealth meant they didn’t even consider non-magical alternatives.

The sun had been bright through the thin curtains since she woke, but now she finally pulled them back. When the light greeted her skin, she realized she had not seen the sun since the day Rory died.

Hearst Hall was extraordinarily gorgeous.

Where there had been gray shadows at night, this morning there were bright greens.

She had a view of the front gates; the forest from which the fox had slunk was to the left.

Her room was almost at the end of the wing.

She pressed her face against the cold glass and could just see the end of the building to the left, perhaps only one more room at the corner.

Briony turned and faced her room, letting the sun warm the back of her neck.

Was this her life now? She would eat, bathe, and sleep all in the same room, Toven Hearst would drain her from afar, and every now and then Mallow would slice through her mind for information.

She tried to think like Finola for a moment. Finola would be searching for an exit, but Briony already knew where the boundary line was.

Briony glanced down at her tattoo. Toven had placed his hand over it to transport her off the property. She could only leave with Toven Hearst.

The idea of using her womanly wiles to get off the property again made her laugh. Briony dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her face. Perhaps she should have spent more time learning a thing or two from Larissa Gains.

Her fingers trailed down her cheeks to her neck, stopping at the metal there. The collar took her magic, and the tattoo kept her on the property. She didn’t know anything about either of these magics.

Her limited knowledge of heartspring magic came only from school rumors.

Heartsprings hadn’t been common practice in Evermore, because mind magicians didn’t need them to fuel their power—and even their usage in Bomard had not been much spoken about until Mallow’s ascent to power.

As Katrina had told her years ago, heartsprings were actually a love-based magic originally meant for marriage.

The two-way sharing of magic made each partner stronger.

What Bomard had been doing was polluting the purpose, creating a one-way taking of magic.

She had surmised that the collar took her magic and would soon funnel it into Toven once he completed the bond, leaving her with no access to her own power.

And Sacral Magic was another thing altogether—an added push of magic for two heartsprings who were bonded and wanted to share their bodies with each other, sexually.

Canning had found a way to pollute that as well with his elixir.

As for the tattoos, Briony had no idea where to start. If she had the Eversun libraries at her disposal, she would work day in and day out to find the magic they’d used for the tattoos.

Suddenly she remembered someone who’d gotten around the tattoo.

Larissa.

Finn Raquin had removed her tattoo at the gate, but Toven must have known Finn’s plan.

Briony wondered if she could get that answer out of Toven.

Sighing, Briony went to the bookshelf across the room, grabbed a text on medicinal herbs and poultices, the least dry of her paltry options, and settled into her armchair for the rest of the day.

She dreamed about Rory that night. He was in formal black and white, with a rose in his lapel. She watched through a fog as Cordelia met him on the beach in a flowing Eversun gown, and they took each other in heart and mind under the sunset, marrying.

Briony woke up sobbing, unable to catch her breath. She turned into her pillow and screamed.

The next day she did it all over again, reading the second book on the shelf, a history of the Ash Wood in Bomard, meant for children.

And the third book on the next day: a biography of Vindecci’s biggest opponent, whom Evermore barely bothered to mention in their history texts.

On the fourth day, she started the medicinal herbs book again.

Every morning, she tried the door handle. Every evening, she stared at the list of names the house had given her. Every night she dreamed of Rory, of Didion, of Cordelia. She woke sobbing. And then she tried the door handle again.

She lost the desire to bathe or change out of her nightclothes, so she simply stopped. When the food appeared, she glanced at it and went back to staring at a page or out the window.

Sometimes she pounded at the door, screaming to be let out, but no one answered her.

She threw the candlestick and the incongruous jewelry box at the wall, and either she was incredibly weakened or the brass-lined box could not be broken.

She received no attention. She tried to heave her armchair at the window, but the glass didn’t crack.

Toven didn’t disturb her again.

Was she just to exist like this?

She had no idea what the heartspring bonding entailed, so it was highly possible he’d already done it after Mallow’s command.

The collar was already on her. She knew heartspring magic was different than boosting.

Boosting was a quick pulse of power, but heartspring magic was sustained over time and distance—a long-term supply of energy, unless one became overzealous.

Either way, Briony felt no change to her lack of magic.

She still couldn’t access anything in her mind or her heart.

On the sixth day, Briony stayed in bed. She stared out the window with her head on the pillow, her tears leaving trails over her nose and onto the sheets. She wished to waste away. She could see Rory again, perhaps.

Her eyes were drooping closed against the sunlight when a harsh knock sounded on her door.

Briony jerked up, alert. She wiped her face and hurried out of bed. Before she could invite the visitor in, the door opened.

Serena Hearst entered, a displeased expression on her face. She wore a fitted blue dress, severely tailored in the Bomardi style of long sleeves and a tight bodice, and looked every inch the lady of the manor.

Briony was suddenly very aware of her unwashed body.

“You’re not eating,” Mrs. Hearst said plainly. “And apparently not bathing.”

Briony swallowed, embarrassment rising.

“You must eat,” Mrs. Hearst said. “You are not allowed to waste away. Your magic must strengthen Toven’s. The healthier the heartspring, the healthier the magic.”

Briony frowned, but before she could object, Mrs. Hearst flicked her fingers, and the wardrobe opened. The dressing gown flew out and landed on her bed along with a pair of shoes.

“Come,” she said.

Briony slipped into the dressing gown and tied it around her waist. “Where?”

“You’ll eat and get exercise. I’ll walk you like a dog if I must.”

Serena Hearst exited, leaving the door open.

Briony’s heart skipped as she tugged on the shoes. She was being let out.