She bites her thumbnail. “That’s not good. But he didn’t know what Latham was capable of, right?”

“I don’t know what he knew,” I say. “I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

“Trust yourself,” she says. “Trust your gut.”

“That’s what I did with Declan and look how that turned out.”

Her eyes go soft. “Not everyone is Declan.”

“No one else is you, either.”

Her lower lip trembles and she wraps me in an embrace. I hold her extra tightly, until she finally pulls away and gives me an evaluating look.

“Maybe all this worry is just a proxy for what’s really bothering you,” she says.

I give a harsh laugh. “You’re right. I’m worrying about nothing—unbound magic isn’t that illegal, my mother’s bones aren’t that lost, the Charmer determined to kill me isn’t that evil.”

She purses her lips and glares at me. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” I say. “So what do you think is really bothering me?”

“I think you’re trying to avoid how much leaving Midwood will make you feel even further away from your mother when you’re missing her so much already.”

Tears prickle at the backs of my eyes. This is so like Ami. To take my worries from me, package them in her unique brand of love, and hand them back to me in a way that makes me feel truly seen.

“What if this is a huge mistake?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not. You’re doing the right thing, Sas. Talk to Bram. Ask him to keep your confidences. And then find your mother’s bones and bring her home.”

The twilight melts into darkness, and finally we walk back to my house, where we talk until we drift off to sleep.

I wake at dawn and gather my things, moving as silently as I can. Then I pause and let my eyes scan across this room with so many memories. My parents cozied in front of the hearth, giggling and whispering like a pair of intendeds even though they’d been married for years. Sitting near the window with Gran while she brushed my hair in long, careful strokes. My mother hunched over her spell book, her lips pursed in concentration.

And now Ami, lying with her hands pillowed beneath her cheek, her face smooth and unworried in sleep. I rest my palm gently on the crown of her head, careful not to disturb her. If she wakes and I have to say goodbye again, I won’t be able to force myself to leave.

My whole life, I’ve wanted nothing more than to stay in Midwood forever. But now, if I want to find my mother’s and Gran’s bones, I have no choice but to leave. I’m standing at the intersection of twin miseries—no matter which way I turn, sadness will follow.