Avalina stands and adds a log to the hearth, prodding it with a fire iron until it settles. Then she sits back into her chair and continues with her story. “My parents spent a modest amount to have bones prepared for my kenning, but they spent a small fortune on the ones designated for the matchmaking portion of the ceremony. And they made their intentions clear to the Bone Charmer: He should use the less powerful bones for the kenning, and the stronger ones for the bone-matched partnership. So that’s exactly what he did. He matched me with a boy I had never met, never even heard of. Latham Thorn.”

With a start, I realize I’ve never heard Latham’s surname before. It hits my ear strangely. As does listening to Avalina describe him as a boy.

“My parents were thrilled,” she says, “relieved that they’d set me up for the life they’d never had. We made arrangements to visit the Thorn family immediately. His town held their kenning later than mine because their apprentices didn’t need to travel far to reach Ivory Hall. So Latham hadn’t yet had his reading when we arrived.”

She stops then, her eyes becoming unfocused and faraway, as if overtaken by memories.

“Was it horrible?” I ask. “Meeting him for the first time.”

Avalina smiles. “Quite the opposite. He was handsome and kind. I’d never experienced such an instant connection to another person, and I could tell Latham felt the same way. But his father was”—a shadow falls over her expression—“displeased. To say the least.”

“Why?” Bram asks. “I would think he’d be happy your parents had saved him the expense of a matchmaking reading.”

She sighs. “Latham’s father was on the Grand Council. He had big plans for his son and thought the match was beneath him. I wasn’t from a prominent family. I hadn’t been matched to a bone magic specialty.”

A jolt of surprise goes through me. “But wait, I thought you were matched as a Mixer?”

She frowns. “No. I was assigned to Ivory Hall as a chef’s apprentice.” My gaze goes to the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and the little pots of spices that line the windowsill in the kitchen. “It suited me perfectly. It still does.”

“But your record at Ivory Hall said you were a Mixer. And my mother talked of you as if she’d known you, as if you’d trained in bone magic.”