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they spoke in low voices. After a few minutes, a set of lighter footsteps hurried inside, and a female voice cried out.

“Mera?”

My heart somersaulted, exploding into fireworks of hope. “Aunt Arianna?”

Chapter Seven

Time stilled, and the space between heartbeats lengthened. I leaned against the emergency door, my breaths turning shallow. The entire mezzanine felt like it had tilted to the side, tipping me toward the balcony overlooking the living-room area.

Anticipation tingled through my limbs, and butterfly wings fluttered in my belly, seeming to carry me around the king-size bed. Not smiling, not breathing, not daring to hope, I floated on numb limbs toward the stairs.

I hadn’t seen Aunt Arianna since leaving Logris in disgrace. We’d spoken on the phone hundreds of times and video-chatted in the three years we’d spent apart, but she had never tried to get a permit to visit London.

With hindsight, I guessed she was so afraid someone might suspect me of having fire magic that she settled for sending me care packages of magic-suppressing chocolates.

“Mera, where are you?” she said.

My heart flipped like a crêpe. The last time I’d heard that voice, it was from the mouth of a shapeshifter faerie Hades and the Mage King had hired to set up that trap. What if the Mage King had handed Aunt Arianna’s DNA samples to Kresnik’s minions and this was another attempt to capture me? I doubted that even Valentine could tell the difference between the impostor and the real thing.

I reached the top of the stairs and gripped the handrail, placing all my weight on my arm in case my legs buckled. The wool of my turtleneck felt too tight, too warm, too coarse, and the muscles under my skin quivered with longing.

She stood a few feet away from the base of the stairs, her mouth and arms and shoulders falling slack, her head tilted upward, and gazed up at me with wonder. It was the same fixed gaze I’d noticed from those who saw my phoenix.

“Mera?” Her voice trembled.

My steps faltered. “It’s me.”

Her blue-gray eyes glistened—the same hue mine used to be before I came into my power. I used to think Aunt Arianna was red-haired like me, but after spending so much time in the Flame with fire users, I now recognized her hair color to be a darker shade of strawberry blonde.

Looking at Aunt Arianna was like seeing an alternative version of a reality where Aurora hadn’t escaped Logris for the lure of Kresnik. Same features, only my aunt’s were rounder and softer.

The only thing that differed were their bodies. While Aurora was tall and wiry, Aunt Arianna was short like me, but curvaceous. My throat thickened. She looked so small and out of place in these luxurious surroundings.

As if our minds had synchronized, the shock of seeing her fell away with a snap, and we rushed into each other’s arms.

Aunt Arianna’s hug was warm and soft with a nutmeg and cinnamon scent that engulfed my senses, reminding me of the days when I had returned from the academy, feeling low due to some slight from Ellora Vandamir and her harpies.

I let my eyes flutter shut, savoring our contact. “Is that really you?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

My chest swelled with a surge of emotion, and tears spilled from my eyes. That was all the confirmation I needed. It was really her.

Aunt Arianna stepped back, sweeping her gaze down my form and then back up again. “You haven’t been eating.”

I shifted on my feet, trying not to cringe at the prospect of lying to my only parent. “It’s been a busy few weeks.”

Her eyes softened. “I’ve read every paper published since we escaped Logris, but it’s hard to work out the truth.” She turned to glance at Valentine, who stood a respectful distance away beneath the edge of the mezzanine. “If you restored His Majesty like it said, then why did it take so long for you to look for me?”

Valentine and I exchanged glances, and he offered me a tight smile that said she’d be better off hearing the story from me.

I exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “Why don’t we sit down for a cup of tea while I fill you in?”

Her features melted into a warm smile. “That sounds wonderful.”

I guided Aunt Arianna to the electric-blue sofa, and we sat side by side, the way we used to on the two-seater in our old cottage. My breaths slowed, and my mind flooded with fond memories.

For the longest time, it was just the two of us, reading together, cooking together, celebrating minor rituals in our living room. It had meant so much when Aunt Arianna had accepted me when the Academy suspected me to be a Neutral and hadn’t minded at all when my magic failed to manifest. Because of her, I grew up knowing love.

Her fingers intertwined with mine, and she turned to me with a watery smile. “What happened after the firestone’s effects faded?”

I reared back, furrowing my brow. “It was supposed to go away?”

She mirrored my frown. “The faeries who helped me enchant the blood assured me that the firestone granules would allow only you to draw on the power it absorbed.”

“Something must have gone wrong with their spell,” I muttered. “The stone encased my heart and absorbed most of my magic. Aurora and her people had to perform a ritual to separate me from it.”

Her eyes widened. “You met your mother?”

The memory of Aurora sliced through my gut like a dagger. I pulled my gaze away from Aunt Arianna’s, turning to a low table with a lapis lazuli surface that held an array of leather-bound menus. It was bad enough telling her that I knew the stories she had told me about my beautiful, kind mother were fabrications, but how on earth would I break the news of her horrific death?

My fingers trembled so much that I could barely get a grip on the menu.

“Mera.” Aunt Arianna placed the

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