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“I spoke rashly. I was disappointed that you did not come to us.” Miss McCleethy takes my hands in hers. Her hands are bony and far too light and feel as if they are not accustomed to holding another’s. “You have been able to do what no one before you has. You were able to open the realms again. You defeated Circe for us.”
At Circe’s name, my heartbeat quickens. I stare at a big brown spot on the floor where the wood is warped. “And what about my friends? What of Felicity and Ann?”
Miss McCleethy slides her hands from mine. She walks around the room, her fingers clasped behind her back, like a priest in thought. “If the realms haven’t chosen them, there is nothing I can do about it. They are not destined for this life.”
“But they are my friends,” I say. “They’ve helped me. So have some of the tribes and creatures within the realms.”
Miss McCleethy brushes an invisible speck of dirt from the mantel. “They cannot be a part of us. I am sorry.”
“I can’t turn my back on them.”
“Your loyalty is commendable, Gemma. Truly it is. But it is misplaced. Do you suppose that if your roles were reversed and they were chosen for membership in the Order, the others would hesitate to abandon you?”
“They are my friends,” I repeat.
“They are your friends because you have power. And I have seen how power changes everything.” Miss McCleethy settles into the large wingback chair across from me. Her gaze bores into me. “Your mother fought bravely for our cause. You wouldn’t want to sully her memory, to disappoint her, would you?”
“You’ve no leave to speak of my mother.” My hair falls into my face. I push it furiously behind my ear but it will not stay.
Miss McCleethy’s voice is low and sure. “Haven’t I? She was one of us—a sister of the Order. She died trying to protect you, Gemma. I would honor her memory by looking after you.”
“She didn’t want me to be part of your Order. That’s why she kept me hidden in India.”
Gently, Miss McCleethy secures the errant hair behind my ear, where it has the bad manners to obey her by staying put. “And yet, she asked your father to send you here should anything happen to her.”
I’ve been so certain these past few days, but now my thoughts feel mud-soaked, and I cannot see the way clearly. What if they are right and I am wrong?
“What will you do, Gemma? How will you manage all on your own?”
“But you’ve not been inside in twenty-five years,” I say, coming round again. “You are the one who doesn’t know how it is now.”
She stiffens. That motherly smile fades from her lips. “You’d be wise to listen to me, Miss Doyle. You may believe you can show largesse to these creatures, befriend them, join with them, but you are deceived. You’ve no idea what terrible acts they are capable of committing. They will betray you in the end. We are your friends, your family. There is only one way—our way—and it must be exercised with no exceptions.”
The clock tsk-tsks in time. The brown spot in the wood seems to grow. I can feel Miss McCleethy’s eyes upon me, daring me to look. Her voice softens once more to that motherly coo.
“Gemma, we’ve been protectors of the magic for generations. We understand its ways. Let us carry the burden. We shall bring you into the Order as one of our own. You’ll take your rightful place.”
“And if I refuse?”
Miss McCleethy’s voice turns razor-sharp. “I can no longer protect you.”
She means to frighten me. But I shan’t give up so easily.
“Miss McCleethy, there is something I must confess,” I say, still staring at the floor. “I cannot enter the realms. Not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
I force myself to meet her gaze. “I’ve tried, but the power has left me. I was afraid to tell you. I’m not who you thought me to be. I’m sorry.”
“But I thought you’d bound the magic to yourself.”
“I thought I had, too. But I was wrong. Or it wouldn’t take in me after all.”
“I see,” she says.
For the longest moment of my life, McCleethy holds my gaze while I try desperately not to flinch, and the clock measures our unspoken hate in ticks and tocks. At last, she turns her attention to a small ceramic angel figurine perched near the edge of a side table.
“Miss Doyle, if you’re lying, I’ll know in time. Such power can’t easily be hidden.”
