“She created a spell for the witches who wanted daughters,” Cole said, and Carys stifled a gasp. “They all wanted daughters, of course, since they often have more powerful magic.” He accepted the glass of wine from Bern with a nod. “What they didn’t know was those daughters could only produce daughters, and so on. They tried joining with other witches, but it diluted their violet magic . . .” Cole shook his head, swigging back his wine. “It’s fascinating magic. I’d never think to combine herbs with our powers this way. It’s so similar to brown witch magic, but so strange. It’s beautiful spell casting, like I’ve never seen before.” He darted a glance to the fae around him. “But, I mean, of course it’s a terrible thing.”

Lina chuckled. “We won’t begrudge you of all people getting caught up in the alchemy of ancient magic.” She leaned back in her chair. “It doesn’t surprise me at all that you’re related.”

“The way my mother spoke of Adisa Monroe was like she was this magical ancestor, a mythical tale that had grown so large I didn’t believe it anymore. She’d tell us the story every Harvest Moon when we’d visit the graves of our family.” Cole’s cheeks dimpled. “My mother’s magic seemed brown like mine . . . but I never thought to look too closely. Maybe it had a purple hue that I didn’t spot, diluted by the brown witches in her line.”

His eyes and hands flared a bronzed shade of brown. The group studied the color, trying to discern if it had a hint of purple but it was impossible to spot. Maybe it was a shade darker than Fenrin’s brown witch magic . . . No, Bri was grasping at straws.

“If this Adisa Monroe was the wild spell maker you say she was,” Bri said, setting down her glass, “maybe she invented this new poison. It smelled floral.” She shrugged. “And the purple smoke, she might have played some part in that too.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Cole said, smirking down at the book. “Her experiments became more and more aggressive over time.” He thumbed through the last few pages. “The notebook ends soon, though . . . I wonder if there are more in the library.”

“We’ll check in the morning.” Carys yawned, stretching her arms.

“Oh, here,” Neelo said, setting a golden necklace with a giant emerald in front of Lina.

“Oh my . . .” Carys gaped at the huge gem that the heir had placed down with the casualness of someone passing a bread roll. “What’s this for?”

“Lina told everyone that she went to Saxbridge to shop for her coronation,” Neelo said. “You can say you bought this.”

“Gods, you must have a bloody treasure trove under your palace,” Bri muttered.

Carys snorted. “You have no idea.”