Page 158 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

Delphyne didn’t look at her. “I knew as soon as he appeared at the house the morning after the ball.”

Cassia stared at her lap, fingers worrying the loose thread at her coat’s hem. “I’m sorry I broke my oath.” She lifted her gaze, uncertain. “But there was no consequence. Why?”

A long sigh. “Because, foolish girl, I didn’t write one.”

Her eyes widened. “Why not?”

For a long moment, Delphyne said nothing. Her gaze stayed fixed on the window, but her voice, when it came, was quieter. “Because a part of me wanted my children to know. If this is to be the end, I’d rather it come with truth. I’ve kept many secrets. But not this one. Not anymore.”

Cassia didn’t know what to say. For the first time, she saw past the title—the woman across from her had held her husband’s hand through the worst of it, and had made room for grace in her own way.

Delphyne turned to her then, and her voice was almost gentle. “I owe you gratitude for that. So—thank you.”

Cheeks warm, Cassia inclined her head. “A family should stay together.”

Something flickered across Delphyne’s face—brief, sharp, gone before it fully formed. “That depends entirely on the family.” Her voice carried an edge Cassia suspected had nothing to do with her, but then it softened. “But in this case, happily, I agree.”

The carriage veered off the main road, wheels crunching through frost-laced gravel. Cassia blinked and sat up straighter, brushing fog from the window. Fields rolled past on either side, pale with snow and stubbled with the remains of last season’s crops. Skeletal trees lined the drive, their branches etched against the pale-grey sky. A pair of crows lifted from a stone fence and vanished into the clouds.

It had only been fifteen minutes, but they were no longer in Little Mineola.

The gravel path curved, climbing slightly—and then, all at once, the trees parted to reveal a mansion.

Cassia sucked in a breath.

It stood at the crest of a snow-dusted hill, not grand in the royal sense, but stately, unmistakably proud. A long, sweeping façade of pale stone stretched across the grounds, its windows tall and latticed, many of them newly paned. The roof had been re-shingled in slate-grey tiles, and deep-green shutters accented the upper floors like thoughtful punctuation. Smoke rose in soft spirals from one of the chimneys. A line of hedges bordered the property.

It was beautiful. Restored, but not stripped of its soul.

A pair of craftsmen carried a door past a half-repaired garden wall. Others were painting trim, patching masonry, and retiling the side stairs. The air smelled faintly of snow, wet cedar, and old enchantments being gently brought back to life.

Cassia leaned forward, her breath catching. “What is this place?”

Delphyne didn’t reply, stepping down as the driver opened her door, heels crisp against the paving stones. Cassia scrambled after her, nearly slipping over the gravel.

“Where are we?” she demanded.

Delphyne’s coat swirled around her as she turned her head slightly, a cool winter wind lifting the silver ends of her braid. “A sanctuary. Of sorts. Consider it an alternative option.”

Cassia frowned. “An alternative option for what?”

Delphyne said nothing, walking up the path toward the arched front entrance. Carved columns flanked the door, and the knocker—an iron phoenix—had been freshly polished. Every step they took was accompanied by the quiet sound of work—hammers, distant voices, the scrape of chisel on stone.

The front door opened with a gust of warmth, cedar and wood varnish rushing out to meet her. But before Cassia could take in more than the ornate glass panelling and the aged marble threshold beneath her feet, voices rose from somewhere deeper inside.

“I said it’s crooked!”

The words shot down the hallway like a thrown hammer.

“You’re impossible,” came the reply—equally forceful. “The floor itself is sloped. Unless you want me to charm gravity, this is as straight as it’s going to get!”

Cassia paused on the threshold. Delphyne, standing just behind her, gave no indication she planned to enter. She merely raised an elegant brow and nodded for Cassia to proceed.

“Don’t tempt me,” the first voice muttered. “You’ve done it wrong twice⁠—”

“I refused to do it wrong twice! That was your precious vision board talking, not real geometry!”

A heavy door slammed open somewhere down the hall. Footsteps approached, each one firm and fast, like someone storming off a battlefield.