Changeling (Sorcery and Society Book 1)(52)

Phillip landed on my hand and pecked lightly. I grinned, stroking a finger along the velvety blue feathers on his head. He chirped and the dragonfly vibrated in response, glowing warm and gold.

“You’re going to want to avoid Horus, Phillip,” I sighed. “I don’t care what Owen says. He’s an ankle-clawing menace.”

Phillip bobbed his head.

As the grand old house came into view, I felt the weight of Cassandra Reed slide from my shoulders. I was plain Sarah Smith again, and my skin felt like my own. A pleasant warmth vibrated along the dragonfly on my palms, as if my mark was somehow happy to be home, too. I never thought I would be so pleased to see the gates of Raven’s Rest, which had meant work and tension for most of my childhood.

But while I wasn’t exactly a member of either family under the Raven’s Rest roof, at least I didn’t have to worry about my hands or my speech or my manners giving me away.

A huge smile broke over my face as the footman, Simon, helped me down from the coach. The shadow of the grey stone house didn’t seem so intimidating. Simon ran ahead to open the door for me. I thanked him politely, but felt oddly disappointed when the man I’d known since I was a toddler didn’t even lift his eyes to respond. Before I could ask him what was wrong, I saw Mum in the entryway, dusting some of Mr. Winter’s larger avian specimen cases. I guessed that she’d had to take over some of my household duties with me away at school. She turned, caught sight of me in my pretty lilac daydress and gasped.

She rushed toward me, smiling broadly. “Oh, Sarah, just look at you! You’re so pretty! So different. And you’ve grown so tall!”

“Mum,” I said, starting towards her with my hands outstretched. The metal dragonfly flashed from my palms as I walked through a beam of sunlight from the foyer window. Mum flinched as the light hit her eyes and she backed away.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you, Miss Cassandra. Mrs. Winter forbid it.” Mum bowed her head and walked toward the kitchen.

“Mum, I have so much I want to tell you. Please don’t leave.”

“I love you. Don’t you ever forget.”

But the door to the kitchen was already swinging shut.

I stood in the foyer of Raven’s Rest, on marble I’d scrubbed hundreds of times. It had never seemed so unfamiliar. My own mother couldn’t talk to me. When I tried to step close to her, she backed away. Admittedly, this wasn’t entirely new. She was always backing away from me. Ever since I was little, she pulled away from my hugs. She was too busy to talk, always bustling around, giving the chores her attention. Giving me my pill every morning was the closest she came to doting on me. Was that it? The pills? The magic? Was Mum afraid of getting too attached to me because she feared she’d lose me? Or because she was afraid I would bring the wrath of the Coven Guild on our heads? Was I the reason Papa started drinking so much? Had I broken my own family without even realizing it?

The grandfather clock ticked away the seconds as saw my childhood through grey, joyless lenses. I felt my eyes well up just as footsteps fell at the top of the grand staircase.

“Mum, what was that noise?” Mary came bustling down the stairs, carrying a basket of table linens.

“Mary!” I’d squealed, nearly tripping over my wide ruffled skirts as I gamboled towards her. Mum’s reluctance flew out of my head as I threw my arms around her.

I’d missed my sister more than I thought possible. I’d even missed Mary’s teasing, her sly smiles as she needled me with one of her little jokes. But now, Mary wasn’t smiling. She didn’t return my hug. Heck, Ivy had given me a warmer embrace before I left the school. Mary didn’t even seem happy to see me. She tore away from me, putting the laundry basket between us like a shield.

“Don’t you touch me,” she hissed. Her lip curled back as she took me in from head to toe, like the dress I was wearing was sort of personal betrayal. “Not after what you’ve done.”

I recoiled from her, feeling as if I’d been slapped. “What did I do?”

Mary had always been quick to upset, but her flashes of emotion never ran deep. A pretty bribe or a boring afternoon were usually enough to nudge her through being annoyed with me. But now, now, staring into those eyes felt like falling into a well, a dark, deep pit with snakes at the bottom.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on here?” Mary growled. “You faked this whole thing. You figured out some way to make it look like you have magic so the Winters would take you in and you could get closer to Owen!”

“Wha-What?” I stepped back from her, my mouth hanging open like a beached trout. I hadn’t seen Mary in weeks, and that was all she had to say to me? Did she really think I was capable of this sort of deceit, faking magic? And to believe I’d done it to get closer to Owen, who as far as I knew, hadn’t looked at me twice since we were children. The revelation that my basic make-up was somehow wrong, had torn our family apart, turned my life upside down and threatened the very fabric of our society, but all Mary could think of was her silly crush on Owen? That was all she cared about?

I loved my sister. I knew she was silly and occasionally vain, but I loved her. That love had blinded me to how deep this obsession with Owen Winter twisted inside of her. She didn’t say anything about missing me or wanting me to come home. She was angry at me for not including her in my “ruse.” For her to think so low of me cut me to my core.