Unlike the triplets, their older brother obediently followed Mother’s lead in every way. He spent hours each day in training to control the natural magic in his blood. He worked with Mother to defend the castle and the forest from any possible attacks, and he worried endlessly about everything that might go wrong for everybody in their family. Some of Cordelia’s very first memories were of Connall racing to scoop her up with infuriatingly long, strong arms, away from every adventure he considered too dangerous.

Now that actual intruders had appeared in real life, he would become impossible.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, of course. How could she not? But he could never seem to remember that he wasn’t an adult yet, not like Mother or Alys. So why couldn’t he relax and let himself have some fun? Mother would never have forced him to study magic. She had barely even argued when Giles and Rosalind had decided to give up their own magical training after only a few months of lessons. Cordelia had expected all sorts of ructions and storms—but for once, Mother had taken a rebellion in stride.

“I’d never force any of you onto my own path,” she had told them all with an uncharacteristic sigh. “I’ve learned better than to do that to my own children.”

Unlike Cordelia, Giles and Rosalind had more than enough innate magical potential to change the world with all sorts of different sorceries, as Mother and Connall did every day—but neither of Cordelia’s triplets had wanted to spend their lives learning how to manage the magic in their blood. Giles had been singing for as long as Cordelia could remember, and if Mother hadn’t agreed to arrange knightly lessons, Rosalind would have ended up bashing down half of the castle—and both of her triplets along the way!—to let off all of her irrepressible physical energy.

As for Cordelia … well, her powers had twisted into their own unique shape long before any of the triplets had grown old enough to train. Even Mother had admitted that it wasn’t worth trying to funnel them into any kind of world-affecting sorcery. Cordelia had simply been born wild and half-animal, more suited to the woods outside their castle than to any of the comfortable rooms within—and now her breath caught in a jagged gasp of pain as a sudden, intense pang for the freedom outside their walls tugged like a hook inside her chest.

Years of practice at resisting that physical tug kept her feet moving toward those stuffy inner rooms of the castle where she would be trapped for the rest of the night. She couldn’t help the snap that pinged through her voice, though, as she answered Giles. “Why would I stay to watch Mother send them away? They’re all gone now, and none of us could have stopped it, so—”