“Thanks.” She turns to me. “We need to talk.”

I groan. I was looking forward to a calm evening of sweeping up broken glass and trying to put everything that got thrown around back where it belongs. I’d thought that Isolde and I might finally have a chance to talk unobserved.

But even my twin is giving me a strange look as the door slams behind Raze. She’s not on my side this time.

I grit my teeth, propping the door open to let fresh air circulate through the cramped space. I start with the biggest things first—the cooking pot, the trunk of spare clothes, all the books that flew off the shelves. The space between my shoulder blades itches with the discomfort of being watched. Once the big stuff is back in place, I reach for a broom.

“Your sister said you needed time to process.” Olani picks up the overturned basin. “But Seelie, we need to talk about your magic.”

I’ve been here the whole time. I have no idea when they had that conversation. It feels like Isolde is exposing my weaknesses. It feels like a betrayal. “When were you two talking about me?”

Isolde steps toward me. “Don’t try to deflect. You can’t keep pretending this isn’t a problem.”

I ignore her. So far, it seems the more I think about magic, the more it grows into something I can’t stuff down.

“Okay,” Olani says, undeterred. “We can start simple. What kind of spell was that you used on Aris back there? What’s your focus?” Silence. “Aris does some kind of light manipulation. I do healing magic, and the shield thing is an extension of it—sorry about that. Leira’s a little all over the place, but she’s such a powerful shapeshifter that none of the others really matter that much. So far, I’ve seen you do that lightning thing, fire, and then...the, um...the wind.” She stumbles for the first time, like she’s remembering Aris’s face as I ripped the air from her lungs. I shiver. “So what is it? You study elemental magic?”

“Elemental?” I repeat, bending down to make sure I didn’t miss any tiny shards. “Would you light that lantern?” There’s a click, and the dark corner is flooded with light. I reach my broom under the stove and drag out glittering dust bunnies flecked with broken glass.

I focus very hard on my dustpan, but Olani must turn to Isolde, because my sister says, “We don’t know anything about magic. This is...mostly new.”

“Seelie, where did you learn that?” Olani says, patience straining in her voice.

“I didn’t,” I snap. “I never learned how to use magic. It just...happens.”

There’s a long pause. Finally, Isolde says, “Well, maybe you need to.”

“Sol—”

She interrupts, and there it is again—that feeling that something has changed. That we’ve changed. “Don’t argue with me! Your magic is dangerous, Seelie. You saw what it did back there...what it did to you! How many times do we have to have this fight before someone else gets hurt? Or worse?”