I felt a twinge of apprehension when I approached her door, and I could only imagine how my father was feeling as he waited in the wagon with Imonie, the afternoon beginning to melt into dusk. I rang the bell, cleared my throat, and smoothed the tangles from my hair, to no avail; I looked like a weary, dust-ridden, and windblown vagabond when my mother opened the door.

Her shock was tangible. Her eyes widened when she realized it was me standing at the threshold, and her expression softened.

“Clementine?”

“Hello, Mama,” I greeted her with a hesitant smile. I was surprised by how much silver now laced her black hair.

“Where’s your father?” she asked, her voice sharp with displeasure. But she gave me no time to reply; she glanced over my shoulder to see Papa sitting like a defeated warrior on the wagon bench. “Ambrose? Ambrose, come inside. You look weary. And Imonie. Come, the two of you.”

My father eased down from the wagon, assisting Imonie. They began to gather boxes, which my mother rushed to assist with her magic, charming our possessions to glide themselves in through the front door to the parlor of her town house. After that, Papa insisted on taking the horse to the closest public stable, a block away.

I think he was avoiding the inevitable, which was having to tell my mother we had lost the town and currently had nowhere to go.

And so I did. While he was tending to the horse, I sat in my mother’s opulent den that smelled of gardenias and patchouli. Dwindle rubbed up against my legs as I took the cup of tea Mama offered me, and I told her everything. Imonie sat beside me, adding a snort here and there in agreement, particularly when I relayed the arrival of the two magicians.

“The Countess of Amarys’s sons?” Mama echoed, and her eyes slid to Imonie’s. The two women seemed to hold a private conversation, which irked me.

I paused, uncertain. “You know of them?”

“Doesn’t everyone in Endellion,” she replied carefully. I couldn’t judge her opinion of them, not like I could with Papa. “Her lands lie south of here, but the countess primarily resides in the city, where she has great influence. Her husband, the count, passed away years ago, but since then she has become a close confidant of the duke, in fact.”

That only made my indignation flare. Why, then, would Lennox need to uproot my father and me? Why Hereswith, when he could have chosen any town, any village, any slice of the city to be warden of?

“So the sons challenged you and your father,” my mother prompted.