Chapter 7 #3
“And yet the manor doesn’t seem particularly concerned about any supposed gaps or fluctuations,” I say, gesturing lightly toward the house looming behind me, its windows glowing warmly in the darkness like welcoming eyes.
“It opened to me without hesitation, recognized me immediately. Seems pretty decisive for something that supposedly shouldn’t have been able to identify me. ”
“Of course it did,” Lenora replies without missing a beat, though I catch a slight tightening around her eyes.
“The property was legally transferred to you through proper channels. The will was explicit and properly filed. When bloodline documentation aligns with legal ownership, the manor acknowledges succession. That is simply how these things work, bureaucracy, not magic.”
The word ‘bureaucracy’ feels deliberately dismissive, as though she’s trying to reduce the manor’s obvious magical awareness to mere paperwork and legal formalities.
“And the wards?” I ask directly, watching her face for any tell, any crack in her perfectly composed facade.
“They require constant oversight and maintenance,” she repeats like a mantra, her tone suggesting this should be obvious.
“They are complex magical systems, and all systems require regular attention to function properly. Minor variations and occasional instability do not indicate fundamental failure.”
“I’ve been told they have been weakening significantly over recent months, years even,” I say carefully, watching her reaction to this bit of information that shouldn’t be public knowledge.
“Subtle shifts over time are not unusual in any magical construct of this magnitude. I’m not going to keep repeating something so simplistic to understand,” she replies, though her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a tiny crack in her otherwise perfect composure.
“Then why are you still standing in the street?” I ask quietly, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “If this is truly my family’s property, and you’re truly here for a friendly visit, why haven’t you stepped foot on the walkway?”
Her eyes narrow, and for a moment I see something cold and calculating beneath the polished surface, something that reminds me uncomfortably of a predator evaluating potential prey.
“I prefer not to intrude uninvited,” she says with forced casualness. “The manor has been. . .temperamental since my mother’s, your grandmother’s passing. Old houses sometimes develop peculiar habits.”
“It does not tolerate false Anchors,” Sir murmurs and I have to resist the urge to smile at his barely concealed smugness.
“You are absolutely welcome to come inside,” I say, making my tone polite but firm, offering genuine hospitality while knowing full well she cannot accept. “We were just having dessert, and there’s plenty of cake to go around.”
“That will not be necessary,” Lenora answers quickly, dismissing the invitation with a wave of her hand that manages to make my offer seem somehow beneath her consideration.
“Because you choose not to accept,” I clarify with deliberate precision, “or because you cannot accept?”
I tilt my head slightly, letting her see that I’m genuinely curious about her answer, that I’m already drawing my own conclusions about her inability to cross the manor’s threshold.
Her carefully maintained composure fractures for the briefest moment, just long enough for me to see something that might be panic or rage flash across her features, before she steadies herself again with visible effort.
“I have no desire to test the house’s unpredictable moods this particular evening,” she says, the words coming out slightly more clipped than she probably intended.
Behind me, none of the men speak, but their attention is like a physical weight. They don’t need to voice their thoughts, we all know exactly what’s happening here, what her inability to approach the manor really means.
Lenora folds her hands once more, the gesture helping her reclaim some semblance of control over a situation that is clearly not going according to whatever plan she had when she decided to make this late-night visit.
“Keisha, I came here to discuss practical matters,” she says, her voice taking on a more businesslike tone. “The estate, the shop, your long-term intentions regarding the inheritance. These are important considerations that require careful planning.”
“I haven’t made any announcements about my plans.”.
“No, you have not,” she agrees, “but given that you did not grow up in Ruby Springs, given your complete lack of connection to this community, I naturally assumed this was a temporary visit. That you would take time to settle the inheritance, determine what should be sold or preserved for historical value, and then return to your established life elsewhere.”
The word ‘sold’ echoes louder than she probably intended, carrying implications that make my blood run cold. She’s talking about dismantling everything, the house, the shop, the family legacy, like they’re nothing more than assets to be liquidated for convenience.
“I haven’t made that decision.” Every word she speaks makes me more determined to do exactly the opposite of whatever she’s hoping for.
“You lack the necessary training and experience,” she continues, her tone taking on a lecturing quality that sets my teeth on edge.
“The responsibilities attached to this position are not theoretical concepts or romantic notions. They require discipline, extensive magical education, and years of practical experience. Stepping into that role unprepared could destabilize the delicate balance that protects this town.”
“Systems like the wards you mentioned?” I ask, allowing a note of challenge to creep into my voice.
“Yes, precisely,” she replies. “Ruby Springs depends on magical balance and stability. The Anchor position is not ceremonial, it requires actual power, actual knowledge.”
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter either way, Aunt Lenora,” I say, letting a note of false casualness enter my voice as I prepare to lie through my teeth.
“I don’t have any magic to speak of, so I wouldn’t have any effect on the wards one way or another.
But I’ve decided I’m staying in Ruby Springs permanently. ”
I watch her face carefully as I deliver this fabrication, curious to see how she responds to the idea of a non-magical Thorne taking up permanent residence in what should be the Anchor’s territory.
She inhales sharply, the sound carries in the quiet evening air, and her eyes shift away from mine as if she suddenly can’t bear to look me directly in the face. When she turns her attention back to me, there’s something different in her expression, something that might be guilt or fear.
“That would be extremely unwise,” she says, her voice dropping just low enough to sound like a warning.
“Why?” I ask simply, genuinely curious about what objection she’ll voice next.
“Because you do not understand what you would be stepping into,” she replies, her voice carrying an undertone of something that sounds almost like threat. “There are forces at work here, complexities and dangers that someone without proper training couldn’t possibly comprehend.”
“I understand enough,” I tell her quietly, letting steel creep into my voice. “Enough to know that something important was taken from me, stolen when I was too young to fight back or even know what was being lost.”
Lenora’s face tightens into a scowl before she smooths it away.
It’s quick, but enough to confirm every suspicion that’s been building in my mind.
Her arms fall to her sides as if she’s readying herself for confrontation, and I can practically see the masks dropping away to reveal something much more dangerous underneath.
Lucien repositions himself beside me, Ezra and Maceo adjusting their positions as well, creating a wider protective semicircle around me without making their movements obvious.
The air itself seems to thicken with tension, and I find myself wishing desperately that this would be the moment my suppressed magic decides to make an appearance.
Of course, there’s nothing, just the same empty space where my power should be.
“You should be very careful about making unfounded implications,” Lenora says, taking a step forward that brings her right up against the barrier keeping her from the manor’s property, her voice carrying a note of genuine menace now.
“I didn’t make any implications,” I reply calmly, though my heart is racing. “I simply stated a fact. You’re the one who reacted as though I had accused you of something specific. Do you know something about my situation that I don’t?”
The tension between us tightens like a wire drawn to its breaking point. I didn’t directly accuse her of being responsible for my magical binding, but the way she just reacted speaks volumes about her knowledge of the situation. Either she knows who did this to me, or. . .
The atmosphere around us begins to change, reality warping and twisting.
It starts small, almost imperceptible, but I can see it clearly this time, the way the trees beyond her shoulder blur and shimmer as though heat is rising from the asphalt in waves of impossible color.
For the briefest moment, the magical camouflage that hides Ruby Springs from the outside world falters completely, and I catch a glimpse of what lies beyond the illusion.
The stretch of highway outside the wards comes into sharp focus, the mundane world that is not meant to be visible from within the town’s protected boundaries, complete with the distant glow of a gas station and the occasional headlight of passing cars.
Then the vision snaps back into place like a rubber band released, everything returning to the carefully maintained illusion of small-town normality as though the disruption never happened. Everything looks perfectly normal again, except nothing about that momentary glimpse was normal at all.
The sudden shift in reality makes me stumble backward, disoriented by the abrupt transition, but Ezra’s hand finds my elbow, holding me upright and secure while the world settles back into its proper configuration around us.
Lenora sees the fluctuation too, her breath catching audibly at the same moment mine does, her carefully composed expression cracking to reveal something that looks very much like panic.
“Magical instability,” Sir says quietly into my mind, “The wards are responding to her lack of control, her hold is slipping.”
Lenora straightens with visible effort, smoothing her expression back into professional neutrality as though the reality-bending moment of ward failure never occurred at all.
“I have said what I came here to say,” she states, her voice once again calm but carrying an edge that wasn’t there before. “You would do well to consider my words very carefully, niece.”
“Oh, I absolutely will,” I answer, letting my own annoyance show through the polite facade.
She hesitates, as if she might add something else, another warning, another threat, another attempt to convince me to abandon my birthright. Instead, she turns and walks back toward her sedan as quickly as those expensive high heels can carry her across the uneven pavement.
At the driver’s side door, she pauses and looks back at me one final time. “I sincerely hope you make the right choice, Keisha.”
“I already have,” I reply with a friendly wave, giving her my best ‘bitch, get off my property’ smile and letting her see exactly how unimpressed I am by her attempts at intimidation.
She doesn’t respond to my gesture or return the wave. Instead, she climbs into her car with sharp, angry movements and slams the door hard enough that the sound echoes through the quiet neighborhood.
The engine starts with an aggressive roar, headlights flare bright enough to make me squint, and the car pulls away from the curb with a screech of tires that speaks to barely controlled fury.
Within seconds, she’s disappeared down the tree-lined street, leaving nothing behind but the lingering scent of expensive perfume and barely contained magical tension.
For several long seconds, none of us move, all of us processing what just transpired and what it might mean for the immediate future.
Ezra speaks first, his voice carrying the careful precision I’m learning to associate with his analytical approach to magical problems. “You saw that ward fluctuation.”
“Yes,” Lucien says quietly, his Fae senses having undoubtedly picked up details the rest of us missed. “The barriers responded directly to her presence and emotional state. That level of instability suggests the magical foundations of this place are more compromised than we initially assumed.”
Maceo steps closer behind me, not touching but near enough. His reassuring presence at my back is solid, warm and protective in a way that makes me feel less alone in facing whatever’s coming next.
I keep my eyes trained on the spot where the shimmer had revealed the world beyond Ruby Springs’ boundaries, where reality had briefly torn open to show me the truth of our isolation.
“She told me to consider my choice very carefully,” I murmur, replaying the conversation and searching for clues I might have missed the first time.
“And?” Lucien prompts gently, his patience evident in the way he waits for me to work through my own thoughts rather than rushing to provide answers.
I continue staring at the invisible boundary she couldn’t cross, her tense body language, her careful words, and most importantly, her visceral reaction to my mention of something being stolen from me.
Her behavior throughout the entire encounter was suspicious as hell, too controlled, too prepared, too defensive about questions she should have had no reason to anticipate.
“I am considering it,” I say slowly, pieces of a terrible puzzle beginning to click into place in my mind. “Very carefully indeed.”
If what I witnessed tonight is any indication of the guilt my dear aunt is carrying around, I have a growing suspicion that she’s not just aware of who bound my magic, but she’s the one who did it.
The thought makes my stomach clench with a mixture of rage and betrayal, but I don’t voice my suspicions aloud.
Not yet. For now, I have one overriding goal that’s become crystal clear in the wake of tonight’s confrontation: I need to find a way to break whatever magical chains she’s wrapped around my power, because I have a growing certainty that this town needs me to reclaim what was taken.
More than that, I need to do it for myself, to become the woman I was always meant to be before fear and jealousy decided to reshape my destiny without my consent.