She missed their house and her bedroom. Her parents had been thirteen years into a thirty-year mortgage. Banks, she’d found out, couldn’t care less about orphans who didn’t have any money.

She missed her block and her neighbors too. Well, kind of. Even before the bank took their house back, the weight of her neighbors’ piteous stares had begun to reach unbearable territory. Everyone in her old neighborhood knew what had happened. A few had probably been morbidly curious and looked up the leaked crime scene and autopsy photos. Nicole could always tell the ones who had seen versus the ones who had not. Their pity hit her differently, like earsplitting ambulance sirens stuck in gridlocked traffic on a stormy night. Somewhere to be and no way to get there—desperately trapped without a shoulder to drive/cry on. She recognized it because she felt it too.

That was the tenor of her grief, most days. Anger and longing twisted together in hopeless, breathtaking fashion. Striking without warning, triggered by innocuous things like too-green grass.

“Nicole,” Stella said as she approached. “You didn’t wait for me. I’m devastated.”

She instantly snapped out of her anguished reverie. “Hey.” Lord Jesus, why did she sound breathless? Her smile felt too big, her feelings too eager. “I’ve been up since four, wandering around. I figured you were still asleep—otherwise, I would’ve asked you to come with me.” She pushed off the wall and noticed Harlow, glowering next to and at Stella. “You okay?”

Surprise flitted across Harlow’s face. “Not really.” Her gaze flicked to Stella and then back to Nicole.

“Fine. I’m guilty,” Stella said. “I don’t do well with sensitive people. Lock me up if you must. I’d make an excellent queen of a prison.”

“I’ve always been a fan of rehabilitation over prison. A little empathy goes a long way,” Nicole said. “Where did you get that?”

Stella was wearing a wyvern necklace—same as the brooch the staff wore, same as the symbol on the gates. “Someone left a present outside my door.”

“Really?” Nicole asked. “Any idea what it means yet? That recipe we got this morning was, um, interesting. Have you read it?”

“No to the meaning. Yes to the recipe. There’s a riddle on the back of this too.” Stella showed her.

After reading it Nicole tried to not sound worried as she asked, “Harlow, aren’t you in the black room?”

“You’re definitely a lot quicker than she is,” Stella said with a laugh.

“Why are you all standing out here?” Jewel appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips.

Stella erupted with sound, cackling and trying to talk at the same time. “Oh, this is too much.”