Rosalie was following her daughter at a rapid clip, but she didn’t run. She had to know Pieter would only make it so far. “Get your family,” she called to Leelo and Sage over her shoulder. “There’s going to be a drowning.”

Leelo gasped, but Sage’s expression was strangely intent as they ran back to the house. What had Isola been thinking? Leelo knew she would want to see Tate after he left, but she would never allow him to risk his life by coming back to Endla. And Pieter wasn’t family, just a former friend who had somehow become something more.

When they reached the house, the girls pulled off their muddy boots before going inside. Sage paused to warm her hands by the stove for a moment as she hollered for her mother. “Hurry up!” she shouted. “There’s going to be a drowning!”

Leelo’s stomach twisted at the echoed phrase. She had always been too sensitive, according to Aunt Ketty. Whenever a lamb was slaughtered for their summer festival, Leelo didn’t have the heart to eat it. It wasn’t the sight of blood that made her vision tunnel and her knees grow weak; it was the thought of anything enduring that much fear and pain. And while she knew a drowning wasn’t a slaughter, exactly, that Pieter had chosen his own fate, he was nevertheless going to suffer greatly.

Ketty came in from the yard, where she’d been chopping firewood. She had the same auburn hair and hazel eyes as Leelo’s mother and Sage, while Leelo had her father’s silvery blond hair and blue eyes. Tate didn’t look like any of them. Her mother said he resembled their grandfather, who had died before Leelo was born.

“A drowning?” Ketty asked, hanging her apron on a hook near the door. “Are you sure?”

Sage nodded. “It’s Pieter Thomason. He was in Isola’s house. He must have come across the ice and hidden all winter. Isola’s mother chased him into the woods.”

Ketty sucked in a breath. “Poor Rosalie. This will be a lasting shame on her family.”

Leelo had never heard of an incantu returning to Endla, and she wondered how this differed from an outsider trespassing. But unlike her aunt, Leelo wasn’t thinking of Rosalie. She was thinking of Isola and, more importantly, Pieter.

Ketty shook her head, muttering to herself. “Best get Fiona. She’s upstairs resting.”

“I’m awake.” Leelo’s mother came down the stairs on unsteady legs, leaning heavily on the wooden banister. She had been weak and tired often lately, though she promised she was fine. Leelo had helped her with the weaving and embroidery before she became a Watcher, but now Fiona had to do all that work herself. “Pieter Thomason, you say?”