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Nevelyn nearly choked on that final word. How could they ever be restored? She remembered seeing Theo Brood on the floor when she was walking around the estate. Obviously, he had survived. Who else would accept public disfavor to help a long-broken house like theirs? It had to be him—and Ren Monroe. At least the girl was good enough to keep her promises.
There was only one question that mattered.
“Have you heard from Ava?”
Dahvid’s expression darkened. “No. I am making inquiries.”
Her jaw clenched. It would be one more reason to feel guilty. It was their fault that she’d been in Nostra. They’d sent her there, knowing all the potential risks. Nevelyn wished she could convince herself that they’d all decided to accept the risk at the outset of the plan, but Ava was the baby sister. She was always going to agree to do anything they asked her to do.
“We’ll find her.”
She did not believe her own words. Dahvid nodded as if he did. After a moment, he stood.
“Come.”
“What? Where?”
He looked back. “We still have to bury them.”
* * *
They were escorted to their former residence. Nevelyn had never dared to come anywhere close to the old house, for fear of being recognized, and she was shocked to see how it stood. A literal castle, nestled between the busy sprawl of other houses and businesses, and it had remained vacant. All this time. No one had ever moved in after them.
Apparently, every carpet and painting and spoon had been claimed in the aftermath of the raid. All divvied up. But there had been some difficulty in litigating the actual residence. Who should be allowed to claim the property? It was quite valuable, but making a claim demanded that someone put their official name on the deed. That kind of official documentation would unmask one of the culprits. Everyone knew who’d raided the house, but rumors would not hold up in a court of law the same way a signature on a house deed might. And so it had sat all this time. Empty.
Nevelyn followed Dahvid through halls that were so empty, rooms so barren, that she nearly started laughing. Even their house was a ghost. They aimed for the run of glass windows along the back of the house. There were cobwebs and broken glass and decrepit stains. Even in such a state, the view over their back gardens of the harbor was breathtaking. Like looking through time and into her own childhood. She followed her brother outside.
“I had them dig up Ware’s body,” Dahvid explained quietly. “And the tree that had grown over his grave—I burned it. It was a cursed thing. Fed by Thugar’s hatred for him. Our brother’s spirit was restless there. Now he’s home. He will hear our voices instead.”
There were three fresh graves. Dark pits waiting to take the dead from them one more time. One for Garth, one for Cath, and one for Ware. She looked at the three bodies under their black-mesh burial shrouds and thought of all they had lost. Dahvid signaled. The gravediggers quietly set down their shovels, murmured their condolences, and left.
Nevelyn looked around the empty courtyard and the surrounding gardens. All of this had once been a pretend land for them to conquer. They would imagine themselves as famous spellcasters or marauders or pioneers. Such bright imaginations, and all they’d managed to do in real life was turn it into this: a graveyard.
She was about to ask Dahvid if he wanted to say anything when magic rippled in the air before them. Both of them tensed as a girl appeared in midair. She was reaching out, her fingers pinched together, as if she’d just extinguished a candle. She floated above the ground for an impossible moment. And then gravity snared her.
She fell straight into one of the waiting graves. Dahvid hissed one of his rare curses. Nevelyn rushed forward and fell to her knees. Ava Tin’Vori was there. She let out a horrible groan, rolled onto her back, and stared up at them. She was covered in dirt and dried blood and gods only knew what else. After a long moment, she grinned up at them.
“I don’t remember the graves. Are they new?”
“You insensitive, crass little creature…”
In spite of her scolding, Nevelyn reached down with Dahvid to help their sister up.
“Not a single word from you. Even though you knew the plan. Not a whisper! We’ve been worried sick, Ava. We thought you’d…”
“Died?” Ava laughed as they finally pulled her out of the grave. The irony drew out a smirk from Nevelyn, too. Her heart was pounding with relief. So many terrible things had happened. There’d been no reason to smile. Not until now. At least the three of them had survived. But she saw that it had been a near thing for Ava. Her sister’s entire body was covered with bruises. She’d bandaged a gash on her left arm, but the blood had soaked through and the wound looked infected. There were a dozen other smaller scrapes and wounds.
“What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story,” Ava answered. “And I will not tell it without a glass of wine in hand.”
Dahvid snorted. “You’re insufferable.”
“Good to see you, too. Hey. Who are we burying?”
Their brother’s smile fell away. “Cath, Ware, and Garth.”
Ava navigated past the open graves to look down at the bodies. They followed. She knelt beside Cath’s slender form first. “She was so very good to you. I’m sorry, Brother.”
