“She’s a detective—working on a case with Reza, actually. Apparently Eira’s nurse got into an accident, and there were some suspicious circumstances.”
Saoirse nodded. There was a tension to her posture like she was holding her breath.
“Do you know her?”
“Not personally,” her grandmother dismissed, emerging with a small pitcher of milk. “Leigh and I discussed the living arrangement a little while ago is all.”
Saga could feel her gaze narrowing on her grandmother, who was now refusing to look her in the eye. “What exactly did you discuss?”
“Oh.” She practically sang the word as she hung on it. A poor attempt at sounding casual. “Logistics, mainly. Square footage, how much rent to charge, working out a credit system—”
“The intricate deception of keeping the existence of magic and the fey secret from your granddaughter?”
The world stopped.
Saga held her breath, knowing she should have held her tongue. There were better ways. Gentler ways. Yet the hurt and anger that had risen inside had boiled over, and she could not take back that accusation now.
Saoirse was deathly still. She did not look up, and she dared not move, as if Saga’s revelation had broken time itself and frozen them forever in that moment before confession.
“Mamó?”
“Go n-ullamhuighe an diabhal teinne dhuit, Hemlock!”25 The curse spilled out of Saoirse in a low growl. “How much do you know?”
“That you lied,” Saga offered. “That feels like more than enough.”
Her grandmother’s demeanor shifted. She looked more concerned than upset now. “We never lied, Saga. We kept it hidden, yes, and perhaps that was wrong—but we had every intention of telling you.”
Saga had never been more aware of her proximity to thirty years of age than at that moment. “When?”
“Well…” Saoirse slowly sat down across the table. She busied herself with serving both of them, pouring cream and sugar and then the tea. “Initially the plan was to tell you before you went off to university, but you were so determined about Oxford.”
“So I was punished for wanting an education?”
“No!” She sighed. “That isn’t what I’m saying. It’s just… You were so focused on going and ‘doing right by your father’ or what Audrey insist you should do. We thought that was what you wanted, and we didn’t want to confuse you.”
Saga could feel her temper flaring. “Confuse me? No, no. Whatconfusesme is finding out our family is made up of a long line ofwitches, and not even the kind of witches Ithought, but something out of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.”
Saoirse scoffed. “Hit pieces. Nothing but hags, cannibals, and kidnappers—the lot of them.”
“You’re changing the subject,” Saga protested.
“I warned Leigh.” Saoirse folded her arms. “Council protection or not, there are dangers in housing a convict.”
Saga blinked. “A what now?”
“And what protection was the council really offering us? Mortal witches are still on the fringes of the fey world at best. I’m not as optimistic as she is that this will help improve relations. The whole point of waking her up was to help keep their world a secret. Throughout history, our presence has been tolerated at best. We’ve never held a position of authority—half of their kind don’t take us seriously. We are stuck with one foot on either side, and that has its own host of problems. Is that what you want?”
Riddle was not fond of this heightened energy and raised voices and had begun to yowl at Saga’s feet.
Saga reached down to soothingly pet his head. “Hey boyo, we’re okay.” She continued this motion and directed her attention back to the conversation. “I’d at least like the chance to say no rather than have the option taken from me.”
“If we could walk away that easily, don’t you think one of our ancestors would have some time ago?”
“They’d have walked away frommagic?”
“That word doesn’t mean what you believe it does, treasure.”
“I’ve always felt out of sync with my life, Mamó—maybethisis why!”
