“Come on,” I say, releasing Griffin from my hug but keeping hold of Troy’s hand. “Let’s go celebrate.”

“Where?” Stella asks.

Phoebe suggests, “How about ice cream?”

“I could go for some rocky road,” Xander says.

Stella slips her arm around his and they start walking into the village.

Phoebe gives Griffin a mischievous look before saying, “I’ll race you.”

They’re off before he can even say, “You’re on.”

“Are you okay?” Troy asks as we start after our friends.

“Yeah,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He tugs me closer as he gives me an are-you-joking look.

Fine, so I collected offerings from the gods, found out I’m the adopted daughter of the Fates, and went back in time to alter the course of my life. What’s the big deal?

The big deal is . . . I’m the daughter of the Fates and I now have the power of precognition. For some reason, that particular turn of events is too big for me to talk about. I’m not even sure how I feel about that in my own head yet, let alone sharing it with someone else.

But as soon as I’m in that place, Troy will be the first to know.

“I’m fine,” I say, finally answering his question. “Really.”

For the first time in more than ten years, I finally feel like everything is going to be okay again.

The edges of my lemon-sourball double scoop haven’t even started to melt when the bell above the door to the ice-cream parlor jingles. I don’t look up until the dark figure bypasses the ice-cream counter and heads for our booth in the back.

“Great,” I mutter.

Stella flashes the visitor a sunny grin. “Hi, Daddy.”

Phoebe looks from me to her stepfather and back to me. Clearly she thinks I’m in trouble.

Not possible. Headmaster Petrolas can’t possibly know—

“May I see you alone for a moment, Miss Matios,” he says, pretty much ignoring everyone else at the table. He flashes me a pearly-toothed grin as he adds, “Now.”

I am not fooled by the friendly facade.

“Don’t eat this,” I instruct Troy as I hand him my ice-cream cone and slide out of the booth.

Troy looks like I handed him a live grenade. Right, I forgot his taste buds are still cursed. Guess I don’t have to worry about him consuming my celebratory treat.

I feel all five sets of eyes from my table watch as I follow Headmaster Petrolas out the front door. As the door shuts behind me, I brace myself for the lecture.

“I believe it is time you returned the book,” he says without preamble.

“The what?” I ask, half-shocked and half feigning ignorance.