Mac grinned. “I helped her with those last night, so she didn’t eat the whole bag.”

“Really?” I’d had no idea she’d been over.

“Yeah, we watched the old Twilight movie while you were asleep.”

“My raccoon has a better social life than I do.”

Mac laughed. “You need to work on that.”

“I will, just as soon as I sort out this Cursed Mate situation with Grey.” I had no idea how long we had left before the curse took over his mind entirely, forcing him to drink me to death in order to save his own life. But it felt like the time was nearing. There was a heaviness to the air that was impossible to ignore.

Mac and I reached the main street, and she turned back to lock the green door behind us. The kebab place under our flats was still closed due to the early hour, but the coffee shop down the street was open and bustling.

“I’m dying for a coffee,” Mac said.

“Same.”

We stopped in at the little place, joining the short queue that waited along the left wall. Ten minutes later, we each clutched a steaming coffee. Mine was enchanted with a shot of mental clarity, and I was hoping it would come in handy. Mac had requested charm, though I had no clue why she thought she needed it. After all, it was just going to be the two of us getting dirty while cleaning the tower.

“The weirdest thing happened this morning,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Eve’s raven visited me, then flew off toward the guild tower, as if it was leading me there.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah. Why doesn't she see it?”

Mac shrugged. “Maybe she’s lying. I’ve wondered about that. Or maybe it’s not really hers. It’s only been around about a year.”

“What?” I flashed a look at her. “Only a year?”

She nodded. “Showed up one day, but she never saw it. So maybe it’s just attracted to her Fae energy.”

“What do you mean, ‘Fae energy?’”

“They’re earth Magica, for the most part. Connected to the life force of the earth. Animals, plants, all of that. It’s one reason why Eve is so good with potions. So maybe that’s what the raven likes.”

“Weird to be followed by a magical animal you can’t see.”

“Very.”

We reached the abandoned courtyard in front of our tower. Morning sunlight gleamed on the flowers filling the ramshackle space. It looked vastly better than when we’d discovered the tower a couple weeks ago. The plants had grown, green and bright, climbing up the remains of the pedestal upon which the statue of Councilor Rasla had stood.

Mac gestured to the wild garden. “I think this is Seraphia’s work, don’t you?”

I nodded. Our librarian friend had some kind of power over plants, though she never mentioned it. We never asked. The topic felt off limits.

The stone statue of the bastard who’d nearly destroyed the Shadow Guild in the seventeenth century was now gone, blasted into rubble, but his shadow remained. I’d been obsessed since I’d learned of him. Why had he done such terrible things to the Shadow Guild, all but destroying it and wiping it from the city’s memory?

A bird’s shriek sounded from the tower, and I spotted the raven sitting on the roof.

“There’s your buddy.” Mac tilted her head. “Does it seem a little different?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

The raven launched itself into the air and swooped toward me. For the longest moment, I felt like I recognized the gleam in its eye.

Weird.

I shook my head and walked toward the door. Mac came with me, and we unlocked the heavy wooden thing. Pushing it open, I revealed the newly spotless room. After all our elbow grease, it looked gorgeous. The stone walls almost sparkled, and the large hearth looked inviting.

My gaze landed on the heavy wooden chair that sat next to the hearth. Cordelia had dragged it into the front room last week, and I’d avoided it ever since.

Mac caught me looking at it. “That’s the leader’s chair, you know. Every guild has one.”

She’d told me that before, about a week ago. Apparently, she felt the need to repeat it. Probably because I’d ignored her the first time, pretending to be distracted. I studied the beautifully carved wood. It was an impressive thing, far too good for me.

“You haven’t sat in it yet,” Mac said. “In fact, you’ve hardly mentioned being leader at all.”

I swallowed hard.

That’s because I don’t feel ready. Or worthy.

“All we’ve done is clean this place,” she continued, her gaze knowing.

“Spit it out, Mac.” She was beating around the bush. I knew her well enough by now to be able to spot it.

“We chose you as leader because it was the obvious choice. You saved this place. And I’m not saying you’re being negligent in your duties or anything, just that I’ve noticed you shying around that chair like it’s going to bite you.”

I drew in a deep breath and approached it slowly, running my fingertips over the smooth wood. “I don’t even know what I am. Or the extent of my magic. How can I possibly be qualified to lead?”

“We believe in you,” Mac said. “You need to believe in yourself, too.”

Easier said than done.

“Anyway,” she continued, “this whole magic thing is a journey. You don’t need to be perfect right now.”

Journeys had beginnings, and I felt like I didn’t know what mine had been. I had no idea where my magic had come from. Not my father. My mother?

She’d died shortly after my birth, so I had no memories of her.

Pain sliced through me, and I scowled. I’d long since stopped thinking of her. It brought more harm than good.

But now that I was faced with my future and so much responsibility that I didn’t feel ready for, I wished I could speak to her. Ask her about my past and who I was. What I was. Especially with my magic, which had been more stubborn lately. I could mostly control it, but not entirely. And new powers kept popping up.

The raven swooped inside, distracting me from my thoughts. This was the most I’d ever interacted with the bird, and so I followed it, cutting through the empty front room that gleamed from our recent deep clean. The bird flew up the stone spiral staircase, and I ran after it, taking the steps two at a time, with Mac pounding behind me.

My heart raced as I stepped out into a second-floor room that we hadn’t yet started on.

“Is it just me, or is this exciting?” Mac asked.

“It’s not just you.” Something was happening—I could feel it.

The bird flew to a dusty old box in the corner and landed on the wooden top. It turned to me, eyes glinting, then pecked at the wood.

“Well, if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is,” Mac said.

“Yeah.” I approached the box, a strange tingle of awareness racing down my arms. As I neared, the bird hopped off.

Magic radiated from the box, buzzing and bright. A chill raced over my skin as I reached for it, the bird’s keen eyes on me.

What the heck was in here?

2

Carrow

Tension tightened the air around me as I rested my fingertips against the lid of the wooden box. It was fairly large—roughly a meter by a meter—and looked old. Really old. The layer of dust on the surface was thick, and there was no lock.

“Go on,” Mac said. “I’m dying over here.”

I nodded, my breath coming short. It felt like something momentous was going to happen.

Quickly, I lifted the lid. Dust billowed out, and I coughed, blinking frantically against the sting.

Finally, the plume cleared, and I looked down. Fabric filled the box, folded and dull. It had probably once been a brilliant blue velvet, but it was now faded and worn. The lace that edged the sleeves was yellowed and fragile.

I frowned. “A dress?”

Mac joined me, peering down. “There might be more.”

I removed it from the box. The fabric felt heavier than it should have, with something bulky moving around in the middle of the folded pile. “I think you’re right.”

I set the dress back in the box, since the interior of the container was the cleanest spot in the room, then rummaged around inside the fabric. My fingertips closed around a heavy object, and awareness shot through me. My magic flared, and though I didn’t get a vision like I normally might, I felt the connection as I pulled it free. The object looked like a stamp of some kind—the old-fashioned sort that was used to press a blob of wax on a letter. A seal, they were called, with an emblem carved on the business side. I raised it up and inspected it.

There was an ornate symbol, along with a single word: Rasla.

“Huh.” I shook my head. “I knew it. We’re connected somehow.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I can feel it. My magic is going off like alarm bells.”

“What do you see?”

“Nothing, which is rare. Normally, I’d get a vision. And I should be, but something is blocking it. Or maybe my magic is just being stubborn. It’s seemed a bit wonky lately.”

“You’re connected to Rasla, though?”

“Somehow. I knew my obsession wasn’t random.”

“True that. No one would be interested in that miserable bastard unless they had good reason.”

I put the seal in my pocket and reached back into the pile of fabric. My fingertips touched the leather binding of a small book, and I drew it free. As with the seal, the book pulsed with magic. A connection zipped between me and the volume, a fizz of magic that lit up my mind.

An ornate golden clasp locked the book tight, making it impossible to open. Protective magic swirled around it. “I don’t think we should try to open it without a key.”

My power struggled to work, trying to read information from the object in my hand. I got a flash of an image—a woman wearing the dress in the box. She looked sad. Terrified. And there was something familiar about her.