“That’s your answer to everything,” Nora snaps. “But what should I expect? You and Roy have always been quick to turn your backs on responsibility when it becomes too much. First Dad, then the inn. Is this to be my responsibility, too, Elaine? Will you be off to Ireland in the morning?”

I flinch. I’ve never heard Nora talk this way before. Upset, sure, even frustrated, but this? She sounds angry, and beneath that…I’ve never known my mother to be scared.

The silence that follows her words is thick enough to cut. I can only imagine the look Aunt Elaine is giving her, her dark eyebrows furrowed, her lips pursed in what Uncle Roy calls her “unimpressed” face.

I’ve always known that originally, Aunt Elaine was supposed to take over the inn. Nora had an art scholarship overseas, but then Aunt Elaine got pregnant and followed her fiancé to Ireland. They didn’t get married in the end, and her son lives in Dublin with his dad while Aunt Elaine splits her time between them and the inn. And just like that, my aunt ended up the traveler, and my mother the innkeeper.

I never realized how much this bothered Nora before. She does such a great job of running the inn, I thought she’d moved past what happened between her and Aunt Elaine. But even after all these years, the responsibility of Ravenfall weighs on her.

I always thought she wouldn’t understand if I told her how I feel, how much it means to me to get things right so I can really be a part of things, but maybe she feels the same pressure.

Finally, Nora sighs. “I’m sorry, El. I just—” She chokes up, and I picture her sister setting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m sorry,” Aunt Elaine says. “You’re right. Roy and I haven’t been there for you, not how we should. But not this time. Roy and I are going to make sure Colin is prepared. We’re going to get through this together, and then the three of us are going to sit down and talk this out.”

A moment’s silence, then, “All right. But please don’t dismiss my concerns. I know he’s Bridget’s son, but something isn’t right. Promise me you’ll at least keep an eye on him?”

“Okay.”

I draw a sharp breath, loud enough that the kitchen goes quiet. The house masks my retreat as I flee up the steps, already at the second level before the door opens.

Crouched on the stairs, I listen for a sign I’ve been discovered, but the door swings shut downstairs with a definite click.

Still, I don’t move, their words replaying in my head.

That battle took place thousands of years ago.