Cold Burn of Magic(86)

“What’s that for?” I asked, fingering the fabric, which was even nicer than the one I’d worn to the dinner last night.

“Claudia sent it up for you, so you’re putting it on.”

“Can’t I just wear shorts and a T-shirt?” I whined.

“No,” he snapped back. “Not if you want any of that before you go.”

Oscar fluttered to one side and held out his hand. Trays of food had been arranged on the table in front of the TV. Steaming plates of scrambled eggs, hash browns, chocolate chip pancakes, cherry Danishes, and, of course, a mound of bacon. My stomach rumbled, and my mouth watered in anticipation.

I took a step forward, but Oscar darted in front of me, blocking my path and crossing his arms over his chest again.

“No,” he said. “Not one bite until you put your suit on.”

“You drive a hard bargain, pixie.”

He grinned. “So I’ve been told. Now, put your clothes on, and eat some bacon like a good girl.”

“Yes, master,” I grumbled, but I was smiling.

And so was he.





Oscar kept nagging at me to hurry, but I took my sweet time with breakfast, savoring every single bite. Despite what had happened last night, I had a sneaking suspicion that Claudia was going to boot me out today. After all, with Grant dead, she didn’t need me to protect Devon anymore, and I wanted at least one more good meal before I left. I thought about stuffing what was left of the food, especially the bacon, into one of my suitcases, but I decided against it. For now.

When I was finally ready, I buckled my mom’s sword and scabbard to my black belt and followed Oscar to the library.

“Claudia will be with you in a minute,” he said.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I think.”

He grinned, then zipped down the hall and around the corner.

I entered the library, but Claudia wasn’t sitting at her desk, so I went over to the doors that overlooked the balcony, admiring the view. That was something else I would never get tired of here.

Soft footsteps sounded behind me, and Claudia came to stand beside me. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

I shrugged.

“Let’s take a walk.”

She opened one of the balcony doors and stepped outside. I followed her as she strolled down a set of steps, across the lawn, and into the woods. I looked around, but I didn’t see anyone else.

“Where are the guards?”

“I sent them to the opposite side of the estate,” she replied. “I didn’t want them to see us.”

“Of course not,” I muttered.

Claudia gave a sideways glance, but said nothing else.

We followed a path through the woods for about a quarter of a mile before it opened up into a large clearing ringed by a wrought iron fence. Behind the fence, square blocks of black marble had been set into the grass.

No, not blocks, I realized—tombstones.

“A cemetery? Why did you bring me to a cemetery? Are you planning to bury me here?” I tried to make my voice light, as though it were a joke, even though I was afraid it wasn’t.

Claudia didn’t answer. Instead, she opened the gate and walked down the main row. I muttered under my breath, but I followed her.

I scanned the tombstones, many of which were shaped like crosses. Those on the left side of the graveyard bore the last name Sinclair, including one for Lawrence, Devon’s dad. So this was the Family cemetery. But then, I glanced over at the right side and noticed that the last names were all different. So the guards were buried here, too. One grave near the front was fresh enough to still be covered with sprays of wilting flowers—Ashley’s grave.

Claudia stopped by that grave a moment, bowing her head and silently paying her respects. So did I.

We walked on. As we moved deeper into the cemetery, another name appeared on the tombstones over and over again—Sterling.

Dread filled the pit of my stomach, and my legs felt as numb and heavy as they had last night after Grant had stabbed me. Suddenly, I knew exactly why Claudia had brought me here.

She walked almost to the back of the cemetery and stopped in front of one of the black marble markers. A star had been carved into the top of the tombstone, along with a few simple words underneath—Serena Sterling, beloved mother and friend, trusted member of the Sinclair Family.

My hand curled around my mom’s sword, my fingers clenched so tightly that I could feel my skin filling in the star carved into the hilt. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my heart twisted in my chest, so painfully that I felt like I was in the grip of one of the lochness’s tentacles, about to be pulled under and drowned by my own grief.

Claudia’s eyes met mine, a mixture of sorrow, pity, and understanding swirling through her green gaze.

“I brought you here, Lila,” she said, “because I thought you might like to finally see your mother’s grave.”





I drew in a breath, then another one . . . then another still . . . trying to get my emotions under control. Finally, when I felt calm enough, I dragged my gaze from the tombstone back to Claudia.

“So,” I said. “I guess the jig is up, huh?”

She arched an eyebrow, and I sighed.

She gestured to a black marble bench that had been set at the very back of the cemetery. “Let’s sit and talk.”