Chapter 2
Nine days left.
Conrad cleared his entire schedule for the week. No Elder Council meetings. No territory disputes. Nothing.
The Dominion treated it like a second miracle.
I didn't say anything. I just watched him cross things off his calendar and thought about the unbinding spell working quietly through my bloodstream.
—
Day three was the anniversary of my mother's death.
She'd been gone for four years. Every year on this date I went to the small cemetery in Queens, left white lilies, and sat with her for a while.
Conrad remembered without me telling him.
"I'll come with you," he said that morning. "We'll go at sunset, before the district business starts."
"You don't have to."
"She mattered to you. Of course I'll come."
Sunset came. I was dressed and ready at the front door by six.
At six-fifteen, my phone buzzed with a message from Elias.
Running late — he says go ahead and he'll meet you there.
I stood at the front door for another minute.
Then I went alone.
—
I sat with my mother for an hour.
The lilies were already wilting by the time the sky went fully dark. I'd bought two bouquets — one from me, one I'd left space for Conrad to add.
He didn't come.
I placed both bouquets myself.
On the cab ride back, I watched the city lights blur past the window and thought about nothing in particular.
Conrad called at nine-thirty.
"Mara, I'm so sorry — something came up with Isabeau, she—"
"It's okay," I said.
"It's not okay. I promised you—"
"Conrad." I kept my voice level. "What did she need this time?"
A short pause.
"She had a conflict with one of the outer-borough clan representatives. It almost turned into a blood-right incident. I had to mediate before it escalated. I was the only one they'd both listen to — I had no choice."
I thought it through quietly. He had missed the entire evening for a mediation that any senior council member could have handled.
"I understand," I said. "Get some rest."
I hung up before he could say anything else.
—
He was waiting in the sitting room when I got back.
The moment I walked in, he crossed the room and pulled me into his arms without a word.
I stood there with my hands at my sides.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have been there."
After a moment I stepped back.
"I'm tired," I said. "I'm going to bed."
He caught my hand. "Mara—"
The sitting room door opened.
Isabeau walked in like she lived there.
Ivory dress. Dark hair pinned up. Not a single thing out of place. She stopped when she saw me, and her expression arranged itself into something soft and apologetic.
"Oh — Mara. I didn't realize you were back. I just came to return Conrad's signet ring. He left it at the meeting hall." She held it out on her palm.
I looked at the ring. Then at Conrad.
His jaw was tight.
"Thank you," he said, and took it from her.
Isabeau smiled. Then she turned to me, and something shifted behind her eyes — too quick for a human to catch.
"I really am sorry about tonight. I tried to handle it myself, I did. But you know how it gets with the old clans." She paused. "Conrad was the only one they'd both listen to."
Perfectly reasonable. Perfectly regretful. Nothing to object to.
"Of course," I said.
"It must be exhausting," she continued, "navigating all of this as a human. The politics alone would wear anyone down. And with the Turning still days away—" A small sympathetic tilt of her head. "I can't imagine what you must be feeling. Not knowing what it'll be like to finally be one of us."
The room went quiet.
Conrad said her name. A warning.
"I'm just saying it must be a lot to carry." She raised both hands. "I only meant it with kindness."
I picked up my coat from the armchair.
"I need some air," I said.
"Mara—"
"You two finish whatever you need to finish."
—
I walked four blocks before I stopped.
Stood under a streetlight and breathed.
Exhausting, navigating all of this as a human.
She never said anything technically wrong. That was the thing about Isabeau. She never did. Everything she said came wrapped in just enough warmth that objecting to it made you look unreasonable.
What she meant was always simpler.
You don't belong here. You were never built for this world. And everyone — including him — knows it.
I thought about the cemetery. The two bouquets of lilies I'd placed alone.
I thought about the fever, and the jewelry order.
I thought about the unbinding spell moving through my blood, slow and certain.
Nine days.
I walked back to the manor.
Conrad was alone when I returned. He stood up the moment he saw me.
"I know how important today was. I should've been there."
"I know you meant to be," I said.
And I meant it. I did know he'd meant to be there.
That wasn't the problem.
The problem was that meaning to was the most he ever managed when Isabeau was involved.
I didn't say any of that.
"Goodnight, Conrad."
He watched me walk up the stairs.
I didn't turn around.
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