79. Lily
LILY
The invitation sat on the kitchen table, lethal as a live grenade.
“What the hell is this?”
“I don’t know,” Lily said cautiously.
It wasn’t the invitation itself so much as the crest where a return address should have been that had them terrified. The front door creaked open, followed by Sebastian’s footsteps. Lily turned, grateful.
He looked more adult somehow, in his spring coat, even with the chill pinking his nose. His spine was straighter, his shoulders more squared, since he’d filed the report. Sebastian was always determined, but now, since his first meeting with officials, he was like a man possessed.
He hadn’t told her much about the first meeting, except that it had not gone well.
When he’d told the administration he wanted to report an assault perpetrated by Conrad Hawleyhurst, they’d asked him who he’d witnessed Hawleyhurst assaulting.
When Sebastian had responded “me,” there had been laughter followed by a lengthy silence.
She had barely seen him lately. They hadn’t worked on the Elumnara, partly because of his hesitance, but more because campus had exploded with the last clue.
All over, cantrip-fueled scuffles were breaking out and the library was so overrun with treasure seekers and students trying to find a remote familial tie to the school’s founder that they had to start closing early and imposing restrictions.
Beyond that, Seb had been consumed with the agony of pressing charges and anticipation for the tournament.
She hadn’t been upset to get quality time with her family.
“Oh good, it came.” Seb looked, if anything, a little proud.
Her mother turned to him. “You know about this?”
“It’s for the tournament gala. I put Lily down as my plus one.”
The gala. Of course. Lily cringed internally.
Each year there was a kickoff gala thrown by the nearest Great House to whichever school was hosting. For Windermere, that was House Bellarius. Sebastian looked between Lily and her mother, trying to gauge their dour expressions.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to take Gran to the store. Nice to see you, Sebastian.”
Her mother snaked out of the room. Seb tracked Lily’s gaze back to the invitation as the front door slammed. With pursed lips, Lily snagged the envelope. It did not blow up in her hands.
She slit it open and wiggled out the invitation.
Hawthorn and Helena Bellarius request the honor of your presence…
Carefully, she set it back on the table.
“Let’s go outside.”
This time he joined her on the swings, sitting facing her.
He looked around the backyard, uncovered to mud and dead grass by the snowmelt, and then at her.
She knew he was thinking about the last time he’d been back here, wondering how high on the scale of unpleasantness today’s conversation would rank.
“I can’t go to the gala with you.”
He tried to keep his face from falling. It fell anyway.
“I know you don’t like big functions, but I thought—”
“No,” she said emphatically. “I don’t mean I won’t. I can’t go with you.”
“Why?”
“My mother’s maiden name is Bellarius.”
All of Seb’s natural grace abandoned him as he nearly tipped off the swing.
“You’re a Bellarius?” he choked out as he righted himself, gaping at her.
“No. I’m a Perkins. My mom was a Bellarius before she was disowned. I’ve never even met her parents.”
“But surely—”
“Surely what?” She couldn’t keep from sounding harsh. “Even if I could, I don’t really want to go to the house of the man who cursed me to die.”
Sebastian clattered out of the swing, landing in the mud.
“You’re not saying—Hawthorn Bellarius was the one who carried out the curse?”
Lily wanted out of this conversation. Desperately. It churned up something dark and vicious inside her. Thinking of her grandparents always did.
“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” she snapped. “Is it really that much worse than pushing your own brother out a tower window?”
“What?” He looked stricken. “What are you talking about?”
“Bellarius isn’t the only Great House with bloodstains in the carpet. You know what I’m talking about.”
“How do you know about that? Who told you?”
Lily dug her heels into the mud to stop her swing. Across from her, Seb looked nauseous.
“My mom was betrothed to your uncle. They were friends growing up.” Seb just stared at her. “Just imagine—we could have been cousins.”
He shuddered. She watched his face work on something she couldn’t really understand, and then it cleared.
“Would you come?” he asked. “If you were allowed on the property?”
“What would be the point? So that I can see my awful grandparents, and the life another version of me could have had?”
“No!” he said emphatically. “So they can see you.” He gripped her hands; they were freezing from clutching the swing’s chain. “Lily, you’re amazing. I could pontificate on that fact for hours. Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to show them what they could have had?”
She’d never considered that the reverse of her statement could possibly be true. She wasn’t sure she wanted the reverse to be true. And even if they saw her and were sorry, what did it accomplish? Curses couldn’t be broken.
“This isn’t some ploy, is it? You don’t want me to come because you’re hoping for some sort of curse-breaking Hail Mary, do you?”
“Lily.” He almost smiled. “This tournament is really important to me. The gala is part of that, and I really want you to be there for it. Not to be melodramatic, but I’d be miserable without you, and would rather not go if you’re not.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “You absolutely mean to be melodramatic. Besides, you can’t not go. I don’t think it’s even allowed.”
He grinned fully. “I know. That’s why I really want you to come.”
“You’re impossible, Sebastian.”