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W AKING ON SATURDAY MORNING was like pulling herself from a thick bramble that had settled over her in the night. Fighting her way back to consciousness, she struggled against aching muscles and a pounding behind her left eye.

She turned on her side and willed her body out of bed. But she couldn’t move.

And then she remembered.

The cannon.

The strawberry-blonde’s scream.

Mallow’s eyes.

And Toven’s voice in her ear, steadying her, guiding her through the night’s horrors.

He’d let her sob, let her lean on him, holding her close. And then he’d nodded. Agreeing with her?

He’d taken her back to her room with an elixir for sleep, and her mind had shut down the moment her body slid in between the sheets.

Her eyes fluttered open as her mind sputtered to life, remembering all the things she needed to be doing. But such strong mind barriers against the nearness of Mallow had taken a toll on her body and mind. Despite her intentions, she found herself drifting back out to sea.

***

When she could finally sit up in bed, the clock next to her read four in the afternoon.

Briony groaned. She couldn’t afford to lose any more time. She needed to build up her mind barrier endurance in case there were suspicions around her. She needed to set an alarm from now on. She needed the house to splash her with pails of cold water if she didn’t move before nine.

Briony focused her thoughts, closing the books in her mind that held the horrors of the cannon and the grief for the nameless woman and her brother.

A fresh memory fluttered to the surface. Arms holding her close, long fingers tracing the shell of her ear. Gray eyes locked on hers as he’d nodded.

Toven. He’d helped her last night. And maybe he’d help her again. Her heart thumped with the possibilities.

Briony decided to dedicate the day to researching the Durlings. Caspar Quill had drunkenly implied that they had also used magical brands—that perhaps he was inspired by them.

She headed downstairs to the library and pushed open the doors, then stopped in her tracks. Texts were strewn across the chairs, the floor, the small end tables. A dozen books hovered in front of their shelves, waiting to be plucked by whoever had called upon them from the book finder.

Briony’s lips parted at the sound of pages turning quickly from deep in the stacks.

“Still not hungry.”

She blinked. She checked behind her to see if Serena was standing there with a tray.

As she turned back to the stacks, Toven poked his head from around a shelf, glaring.

When he saw it was her, his frown vanished, and he snapped his book shut.

He pulled a pen from behind his ear and twisted it between his fingers.

“Rosewood,” he said. “I thought you were Mother.”

His eyes whipped around the room as if just taking in the disarray she’d walked into. She held her breath as she studied him, watching the flush creep up his neck. He dropped the arm holding the book and tilted it so slightly behind him, and her eyes followed the movement.

“What are you researching?”

“Just looking for a solution to a problem,” he clipped. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair.

She nodded slowly, glancing at the book finder. She had wanted to ask it for everything on the Durlings, but now she wasn’t sure if Toven should hear her topic of research.

When he’d nodded in understanding last night, what was he agreeing to?

She moved a few steps closer to him. “I wanted to thank you for your kindness last night.”

He stared at her stiffly as she gazed up at him. His eyes were different from the warm ones that had locked on hers last night, in his bedroom.

“You’re welcome.”

She waited for more, but nothing came. “And I wanted to—”

“Rosewood, I’m in the middle of something. Can this wait?”

She startled at the bite in his tone. There was a tension in his posture, a squaring of his shoulders that she recognized from school. Determination.

Suddenly she felt very silly. Thanking him for taking care of her while she cried. Thinking something had shifted. Her eyes prickled, and she snapped her mouth shut.

His face instantly softened. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she replied, and his shoulders dropped. The burning behind her eyes faded into a slow throb. “Exhausted.” She stood surrounded by all his books and notes and messy piles. “Is this ‘problem’ anything I could help with?”

She inched toward the table filled with notes, eyeing an open book on the edge. Toven was there in the blink of an eye, slamming it closed. She managed to catch a glimpse of ancient translations scribbled on parchment before he swiftly stepped in front of her.

Her eyes flicked up to him, so close she had to tilt her head back. They’d been this close the night before, when he’d folded his arms around her as she sobbed. He’d pushed a curl over her ear and stared into her watering eyes like he’d been entranced.

She tucked the memories away. “I am pretty good at research, if you’ll recall.” She smiled, hoping he couldn’t resist the chance to tease her. To let her in.

Instead he jerked his head. “No. I’m almost there.” He swallowed tightly. “Thank you, though.”

She blinked quickly, nodding her disappointment at her shoes. Maybe when he was done with his “problem,” they could finally talk.

She lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and said, “I find that in most cases, the answer is right in front of you.”

His lips parted on a silent inhale, as if her flippant remark had disturbed him. Pink spots appeared high on his cheeks as his eyes roved over her before returning to her gaze.

“Thank you, Rosewood. I’ll keep an eye out for that,” he murmured.

Nodding one last time, she excused herself, heading to the doorway. As she turned to close the library doors, she caught a glimpse of him sitting at the table, beginning to organize whatever he was researching.

She ate dinner alone in her bedroom that night, poring over a heavy book that contained a reference to magical tattoos somewhere inside. She made it three chapters before an overwhelming exhaustion pushed at her eyelids, beckoning her to sleep.

***

“Rosewood, wake up.”

Her eyes snapped open, jolting with the presence of someone else in her room. It was pitch black.

A candle flamed next to her, revealing Serena leaning over her bedside table, shaking out a match.

“It’s all right, dear,” she whispered, but there was a quiver to her voice, and she wouldn’t make eye contact. “It’s all right,” she repeated—more to herself.

“What—” Briony fell silent, lips parting at the sight of Toven on the other side of her bed with another candle. His fingers fumbled a match out of a box, dropping it next to the candle without lighting it.

“What’s happened?” she asked, scrambling into a sitting position.

“Come.” Serena peeled back the sheets over her legs, reaching for her. “Come with me.”

Briony slipped out of bed, heart pounding in her ears. Serena led her into the bathroom suite as Toven moved to the center of the room, hand roving in circles—opening a portal.

Serena shut the door behind them, and Briony blinked, taking in the elegant Serena Hearst in her dressing gown, without makeup, without tailored clothing. A white silk nightgown hung limply from her elbow, and she had a pale expression to match.

“Remove your nightgown,” Serena whispered.

Briony swallowed, her mind begging for answers. But something told her to obey. “Are we going somewhere?” she squeaked.

“No, dear. There’s … someone is—”

She watched Serena struggle for words. Briony’s eyes went wide with rising terror, her breath coming quick. Mallow?

“We’re having visitors first thing in the morning,” Serena finally managed. “I don’t know why. We were told they need to do a medical examination.”

Briony pulled up the plain cotton nightgown with shaking fingers, fear overriding her modesty as Serena bunched up the white silk and tossed it over her neck.

“All right,” she rasped. Chills bursting along her skin as the silk slipped over her. A trade of cotton for silk? “And what are we doing?”

“There’s an old spell. Something that they used to use on their daughters … A ritual.”

Briony stood frozen in terror as she let Serena pull the gown down her legs. Fingers pushed her hair to the side. A cool chain draped over her shoulders as Serena placed a crystal necklace over her.

“What kind of ritual?” She didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice. The crystal hummed against her skin. Magical. The silk was part of the ritual as well?

Serena’s blue eyes met hers. They pierced her, studying her.

“They will be able to see that your virginity is intact,” she said quietly. “So we’re going to remove it.”

Briony’s skin tingled, feeling the weight of the silk gown on her shoulders. Waiting for the words to make sense to her.

A rattling knock at the bathroom door. “One fifty-eight,” Toven’s clipped tone rang out, announcing the time. Her body jerked, and Serena gripped her arms to guide her out.

Toven stood aside to let them pass, his eyes firmly planted on his timepiece. The portal was a gaping hole in the middle of the room. Serena guided her to the bed, pushing her to sit.

Her mind caught up to her circumstances as Serena knelt before her, produced a bowl of water, dipped her fingers, and brushed her fingertips over Briony’s eyes and lips.

There was a ritual.

A ritual to trick the virginity spell. The one they’d cast on her to decide her starting price at the auction.

Serena whispered something into the water bowl—something in another language—before bringing it to her lips and swallowing half. Briony looked at Toven. He stood rooted to the carpets, muscles moving in his jaw.

This was what he’d been researching. Finding this ritual. He hadn’t let her help him.

The clock chimed two in the morning, and Toven moved away from the portal and stared at her with gray eyes.

Serena pushed the bowl to her, bringing it to Briony’s lips. Briony drank the rest of the water, watching Toven over the rim. He stared her down as she swallowed.

He knew yesterday that they were coming. He knew they’d find her untouched, and he’d ransacked the library for a solution to his problem.

Briony’s breath hitched at the realization that he’d skipped over the easiest one.

Serena placed the bowl on the nightstand and crawled onto the bed, her long limbs gracefully folding under herself. She guided Briony to sit in front of her, both of them facing the portal. Toven paced to the end of the bed, hand against the bedpost, watching the clock.

She opened her mouth to break the silence, to ask about the spell and question the research, but the words died in her throat as the portal sizzled and Orion Hearst stepped through.