Page 88 of A Treason of Thorns

“He took it upon himself to break the binding,” Burleigh says with Wyn’s mouth, in its voice like shattering stone. “And there was so little of him left. We spared him for you as long as we could, Sterling girl. But in the end, he wanted to go.”

“He’s not—” I can hardly bring myself to speak the words. “He’s notgone? For good?”

Burleigh makes no answer at first, and I can feel all the House’s brooding attention pondering the question I’ve asked.

“We would rather not tell you,” Burleigh finally says. “You are... very small. And perhaps more fragile than we’d thought.”

“Answer. The question.”

The creature before me, that is not my Wyn, and may never be again, hangs its head. “He is ours entirely now, Sterling girl—a part of us, and inseparable. But we are sorry we cannot give him back.”

For a long time I keep entirely motionless, afraid even to breathe. Because I know the moment I begin to feel this loss, it will cut deeper than any thorn. Weigh heavier than all the world’s mortar. Breed more damage than years of working House magic.

At last I glance over one shoulder to the edge of the woods. A wall of flame is eating away at the trees, flames hungrily consuming Burleigh’s power and magic. But Burleigh can begin again, go elsewhere to take a new shape with the life Wyn’s given it.

I hold the heartstone in my two cupped hands and the wide world beyond the grounds seems sere and empty. This could end now. I could leave, clamber over the wall, and disappear. Cast off my name, and the expectations it brings with it. In a way, the prospect is almost inviting. A fresh start. A clean slate. It’s what Wyn always tried to convince me I wanted.

The truth is, though, I don’t want any of that after all the things I’ve seen. After everything I’ve lived through, and all that I’ve lost. Nothing seems worthwhile anymore. Not the world. Not a life on my own. Not even Burleigh House.

But since the day I was born, I have been taught one thing. It comes as naturally as breathing to me, the knowledge that I am a Caretaker, and a good Caretaker puts her House first.

Before king.

Before country.

Before her life and her heart.

Now, at last, it’s time for me to decide if I will break free of my bond, or fulfill the fate that Burleigh House and my father placed upon me. At the thought, something dark and bitter rises up within me. A wanting. A longing. A brooding desire, laced with vengeance.

I don’t know if it’s possible for Burleigh to return Wyn—for us to have another chance at becoming all the things we were never able to be, both on our own and together. But I do know this—if I stand at Burleigh’s heart, with its missing piece in my grasp, I could bind it with blood and mortar to spend the last of its power and the final moments of its life at leasttryingto bring him back.

Rather than taking the few steps left between me and freedom, I slip the heartstone into my pocket and turn toward the House.

“Where are you going, Sterling girl?” Burleigh calls after me, but I make no answer.

The ground rumbles incessantly as I cross the field. The air is thick with smoke, and everywhere, brambles burst from the ground, slithering across the soil. Strange, light-on-water memories float above them—all the many ghosts of Sterlings gone before. Burleigh House itself is nearing absolute ruin. The roofless attics have all collapsed into the second floor, and bits of stone crumble from the remaining walls. Overhead, the sky boils with clouds, thick with unspent rain.

Inside the door I meet more ghosts. All of them drift silently through the remains of the House, like spirits leaving a dying body. And perhaps they are. I move against the flow of them, feeling nothing but a shift of cold air as they brush past me. They’re all coming from the same place, moving down the main stairs like water over rapids and then splitting off in different directions as they reach the landing.

Stepping out of the way, I tuck myself into a secluded spot next to the stairs. And I watch the ghosts as I think, mind racing. The heart of the House. The heart of the House. Surely, in all the yearsBurleigh and I have spent together, at some point it showed me a glimpse of its hidden heart.

With a start, I recognize one of the remembered Sterlings floating past. It’s my grandfather, who I’ve only ever seen in an oil painting, and through Burleigh’s eyes. My father’s not far behind him, and the sight of them as they’re remembered by Burleigh tightens my throat. They’re not anxious or worried or wasted by House magic. Instead, they look calm, at peace, even happy. These aren’t just ghosts, or memories, for surely my House has memories of people it hated—the king and all his predecessors, to begin with.

No, this procession of Sterlings is a parade of all the people Burleigh ever loved.

I stiffen at the thought, and at the sight of that procession of ghosts, all pouring down the stairs, all coming from the same direction. Taking the heartstone from my pocket and gripping it tight, I push back into the current of memories and begin to climb the stairs. The brambles choking the staircase have crumbled to ash that stains my feet as I hurry up the trembling steps. On the landing I see that while every door in the House stands open, one is shut. And every memory passes through it, appearing like figures passing through a cloud of mist.

Stopping outside Papa’s room, I try the door. Locked. There’s no roof left overhead, just the sky simmering with rainclouds. A crack forms in the wall beside me, yawning open with an inhuman groan.

“Burleigh,” I say, knocking insistently. “Burleigh House, let me in.”

The door stays locked.

“I’d never hurt you,” I lie, forcing down not fear but the softer,gentler pieces of me. Because I’m still not sure what I’ll do—whether I’ll choose to unbind Burleigh, or bind it further in an attempt to bring Wyn back. I’m waiting for some sign or beacon, some undeniable sense of rightness to tell methis, Violet. This is how you should choose. “No matter what’s happened before, if you let me in, I swear to unbind you. You’ve known me since the day I came into this world, Burleigh, and I’ve loved you just as long. Can’t you trust me? Can’t you hope for a world where you get more than a lonely rebirth, rebuilding on the bones of someone who never should have died for you? Let me set you free.”

With a whine of rusted hinges, the door swings open. For a moment, I stand on the threshold, breathless and anguished. I almost hoped Burleigh would hold out. That it would shut me out and keep me from breaking its trust, and that would be all the sign I needed.

But the door is open, the way is clear, and I step one more time into Papa’s bedroom, Burleigh’s last and most faithless Caretaker, who stands on the verge of betraying her House.