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“This doesn’t look like a sex dungeon at all, really.” He stood, straightening his unwrinkled shirt and taking in the suite. “I’m quite disappointed.”

She stared at him incredulously. “A sex dungeon,” she snorted. “And where did you get that idea?”

He turned to look at her from where he’d just parted her curtains to examine the grounds. “Toven.”

She blinked, mind twisting to work through it.

“He’s very coy with the details of course,” Finn blithely continued, “but he said that once he’d completed the bond with his heartspring, that Sacral Magic became undeniable. You two have been at it like rabbits, from what we can tell.”

The mention of the heartspring bond—which Briony understood was not being used—and Sacral Magic … It was possible to have a heartspring bond without experiencing Sacral Magic, surely, but apparently Toven had been crafting quite a tale about what went on behind closed doors at Hearst Hall.

“My ropes and chains are in the closet,” she deadpanned. “Who is ‘we,’ exactly?”

Finn wandered toward her bookshelves. “The boys.” His fingers drifted over the handful of titles, then the bare shelves surrounding them. “At our gatherings.” He eyed her, his features giving away nothing.

Briony considered her next move carefully.

“How is your mother in all of this?”

Finn blinked once, expressionless. “She’s gone. A traitor to Mistress Mallow.”

Briony’s lips parted. Her chest tightened. “She’s gone? What does that mean?”

Finn glanced out her windows. “She was at Castle Javis with the Eversuns. She’s either dead or she’s none of my concern any longer.” He looked at her. “She’s … gone.”

What did he truly feel about it? He seemed so controlled in the way he gave information, in the same way that Toven could be emotionless. She tried one more question.

“Where is Larissa?”

His dark eyes danced over her face, pausing. “Dead.”

Briony felt the wind knocked out of her. She resisted the need to lean on something. Her fingers tightened in her robe.

Her mind worked. The last time she’d seen Larissa, she’d been running into Finn’s waiting arms … as he rescued her.

Her eyes dug into him. “Why?”

“For disloyalty to Mistress Mallow,” he responded smoothly. Too smoothly.

“You’re lying.”

Finn paused. Then shrugged, and said, “Ask Toven.” He sauntered into her sleeping area, drawing closer to the bed. He ran his fingers over the decorative jewelry box, almost dearly. “He’d be more than happy to give you more information.”

“Wonderful. Anything else? Or can I get dressed now”—he opened his mouth—“in privacy.”

He grinned. “I was just interested in seeing the sex dungeon, but …” He sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid you’ve let me down.”

“Apologies.” She moved to her wardrobe, dismissing him.

“It does tickle me to see how close you and Toven have gotten.”

She froze in the middle of reaching for a clean dress. Finn leaned against her bedpost, watching her closely.

“We’re not close.”

“Yeah?” He lifted a brow at her. “When’s my birthday, Rosewood?”

She pressed her lips together, fighting the blush creeping up her neck.

He smirked and sauntered out the door.

***

All further news of Toven was passed on from Serena. He finally left his room for the first time a day later. He walked by himself through the estate’s gardens on the next, and finally on Friday, he left the property for the first time.

She looked for him in the mornings from her window, hoping to glimpse him walking through the grounds, testing his new ribs, but she never spotted him.

Briony had begun tugging at her magic again. It was slow to respond, like a muscle weak from lack of use, but she started small: turning the bath taps, calling books from her shelf, warming her cold teacup. She was eager to try the next steps of mind barriers.

On Tuesday, she moved her meditations to the library, choosing a book on different barrier techniques.

One that had resonated with her was thinking of her mind as a bookcase or a series of shelves.

Her introductory textbook had included a short summary of it, and she’d experimented with it before using pure intuition.

But now she had pages of detail and theory at her fingertips.

She found ideas for bringing other memories forward—in her case, displaying a memory on an easily reachable shelf. Although the techniques were incredibly advanced, Briony couldn’t help but soak in the information, always seduced by the most challenging ideas.

Hours later, Briony sat in one of the grand armchairs, facing a large window that overlooked the pond as she focused her mind on still waters and hidden shelves.

She tried to bring forward only memories of her father, but it quickly became apparent there were too many other things at the forefront of her mind, making her shiver as they played again and again.

Toven’s bare shoulders as he mended her neck back together.

The echo of Didion screaming that it would be all right off the stone walls of the prison.

A body flying backward, hitting the trunk of a tree.

Rory’s easy smile on the day he rode off to his death.

The dried blood on Cordelia’s temple as she turned to her, pale skin translucent in the spotlight.

Briony took each of them, holding them like books, and placed them on tall shelves, or shoved their thin spines inside larger ones and hid them on bottom shelves. It was like tidying away the things that cost her most—both in love and in pain.

She pulled forward the memory of her father taking them to the circus. Her father’s aftershave. Rory’s easy laugh at unfunny jokes. An entire shelf was open at eye level, now that she’d replaced the other thoughts. She filled it with happy memories of her family.

“Rosewood.”

Her eyes blinked. She was staring at the pond from a deep armchair in the library.

The books inside her mind shivered, thrumming with the energy it took for her to contain them—to keep them in place. Only happy memories of her family available to prying eyes.

“Rosewood,” someone said again.

She swam back to herself. There was someone next to her. But if she looked at him, the books would fall off their shelves and she’d be left only with bare shoulders and echoing screams and dried blood—

“You’re feeling better?” she asked, drawing breath from her lungs and preparing to look away from the pond and the still waters. “How are your ribs?”

She focused her mind and called on her strength to keep her shields up. Her heart pounded with excitement to look up; to see him again. And she quieted that book, pushing it away.

“Better,” his voice rumbled.

Breathing deep, she turned her eyes to him, taking in a tall body leaning slightly to the right, and curious eyes gazing down at her.

Only happy memories of her family.

Her gaze flitted away, her energy focused on the bookshelves in her mind.

“How was your birthday?” She knew her own lips had asked the question, but the voice was unfamiliar to her. “Were you able to enjoy it—?”

“Look at me.”

She felt the request in her bones. Turning her head to him, finding his gray eyes, she saw him twitch at the sight of her. He looked down at the book in her lap, then back up at her.

Briony saw him through a haze, recognizing him, but also failing to place him. Her body filled with cotton, her head filled with dust.

She blinked, and it was as if he swam back into focus. Toven Hearst stood next to her, staring down with concern.

Her bookshelf cracked, and the texts fell open at her feet.

She sucked in a deep breath, and his bare chest, his broken ribs, his crumpled body, his cool eyes—all those carefully placed books fell off the shelf in her mind.

Her eyes stung, as if she’d looked directly into the sun. She pinched them closed and pressed her hand over her forehead, blocking out the light.

The advanced mind barrier book slithered away from her lap, lifted away from her.

“You’re too expressive for this specific technique,” he muttered. “It will be obvious that something is wrong with you.” She listened to him turn the page and then close the book with a snap. “You skipped intermediate studies?”

“Of course,” she said, her lips pulling in the ghost of a smirk. Her head spun. She felt like she’d been awake for days. “Did you expect anything less of me?”

Her eyes slipped open, staring at the pond through the window again. She tried to grasp onto the idea of still waters, calming her racing mind, but her energy was depleted.

“It can be exhausting,” he said, barely a whisper.

She nodded, drowsiness in her veins. She wanted to close her eyes and sleep. But she had more pressing questions while she had him here.

“How is Larissa?”

She watched his eyes harden, like a swift close of a book. “She’s dead.”

Briony pressed her lips together. “How?”

“She was killed for her disloyalty to Mistress Mallow.”

She frowned, watching him closely. “Those were Finn’s exact words as well. Curious.”

His eyes snapped to her. “When did you speak to Finn?” There was a bite in his words and ice in his eyes.

“He stopped by. Entered my room and drank my tea without a care in the world.” She shifted in her seat, lifting a brow at Toven’s dark expression. “He also mentioned some fascinating stories you’ve been spinning to ‘the boys.’”

Toven’s gaze flickered to her.

“Is your confidence so low that you must describe your conquests in such detail to your friends, Toven?” she asked.

He swallowed. “When the ‘conquest’ is the Princess of Evermore, yes.”

She curled her lip. She decided to push her luck.

“What exactly goes into a heartspring bonding?” she asked.

He looked away from her. “It’s an exchange of jewelry imbued with a drop of the wearer’s blood.

It’s different from boosting because the jewelry ties two people together over distance.

You have to be physically next to someone to boost, but heartsprings don’t even need to be in the same country to share magic with each other.

” He shifted his weight, leaning away from his weaker side.

“When the Bomardi adapted the heartspring bond for their own purposes—for the Eversun heartsprings—they developed the collar for a one-way taking of magic.” He glanced at her neck.

“The collar siphons all magic—heart, mind, and Sacral—into another piece of jewelry or into a location, like the Trow dungeon.”

“But you never bonded to me, despite Mallow demanding it?” she said. “Does that mean you never took my magic?”

He swallowed and answered carefully. “Heartspring magic cannot be taken if it’s already freely given.”

She squinted up at him, trying to understand.

“ You started giving away your heart magic to your brother years ago,” he said.

“Boosting him. My father doesn’t quite understand it, but even in your brother’s death, you give your magic to him.

We think it has something to do with being twins.

It created a heartspring bond without the ritual or the jewelry.

That’s why this collar doesn’t work to take your heart magic. ”

He traced his finger over the gold around her neck. Briony thought that over.

“So my heart magic couldn’t be taken because I was already unknowingly …” She choked. “Bonded to Rory. As his heartspring?”

He nodded. A surge of sadness crested over her, thinking of Rory and the bond to him that she’d never understood. It was a heartspring bond.

“We kept you on the Gowarnus elixir to keep all of your magic subdued. It was in your tea. Sometimes your food.”

Irritation flickered in her as she remembered how Serena and Toven had been insistent that she eat. It was no wonder; they were dosing her.

“I requested that we stop the Gowarnus elixir, so you could access your mind magic for your practice in mind barriers,” he said.

Her heart pounded. She wanted to ask why—why it was so important—but she needed to get all the facts straight first.

She pressed her eyes closed, the headache becoming worse.

“So in the Trow dungeon, the collar took my mind magic but not my heart magic—because I was already giving it away. Then after I got here, I was being given the Gowarnus elixir.” She stared up at him and reached for the band around her neck. “Does this collar even do anything?”

“Not yours. Not at this time. Without us bonding, it’s just for show.”

Her thoughts were becoming fuzzy. It was too much to work out for now.

She moved to stand, and blood rushed to her head. The mind barrier had drained her far more than she’d thought, and she stumbled back against the arm of the chair.

A hand on her elbow. Her head pounded as she squeezed her eyes shut, registering Toven’s touch, the warmth of his fingers on her skin through the thin cotton of her sleeve. When she opened her eyes and righted herself, he said, “You should be careful next time. It can be very draining.”

She blinked to find him staring down at her, body close and fingers still light on her arm. He wobbled on his feet, looking pale.

“You’re still injured,” she said. “You should be careful as well.”

His eyes danced over her face, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

She had an image of another life. Another reason for his hand to take her elbow. Another use for the closeness of his body.

Perhaps things could have been different. Perhaps the Hearsts would have been the top contenders for the Rosewood daughter’s hand.

Toven’s smile dripped off his face, but he held her eyes.

Perhaps she would have lived here after all—in some other life.

The library doors creaked open, and he stepped back from her, dropping her elbow.

“Toven,” a sharp voice called from the door, and Briony turned with an aching head to see Serena, her mouth in a tense line. “You have guests.”

Toven stepped in front of her as Briony focused her mind on what the words meant.

“Shall I send them to the drawing room?” Serena said firmly, but before Toven could respond, a raucous voice called from the hallway.

“A look at the old library wouldn’t be bad, would it, Can?”

Liam Quill pushed through the door with Canning Trow and Finn Raquin behind him.