23

I remained with Devlin throughout the day, until nightfall, returning to the manor with just enough time to shower and dress

before meeting Mr.Balfour at 11:45p.m.

I'd succeeded in bringing harm to no one and nothing, depositing myself safely at the doorstep of the all-important deadline.

We women have a hard time concealing a truly spectacular night from astute eyes. It changes the way we move, walk, hold ourselves,

especially when it's more than sex, when a deeper, true connection takes place, a thing I'd never permitted in my life, but

it had happened despite my intentions.

Devlin was open, charming, disarming me with frank honesty and humor at unexpected moments. I had to admit, I was fascinated

by how long he'd lived, what he was. By becoming a warm vampire, he'd opened the door to many new, extraordinary powers no

everyday witch, not even a Highblood like me, would ever possess, such as shapeshifting, a topic he'd resisted discussing

further.

Although I'd endeavored to scrub away the sensually satisfied, unexpectedly romantic glow the past twenty-some hours, most

of them in bed with Devlin, had bestowed upon me, I must have failed because when I walked into the south parlor, Mr.Balfour

looked me up, down, and up again, then met my gaze in silence, without the faintest hint of a smile or warmth.

His was a weighty silence that spoke volumes.

You went to him, his eyes said, disappointment clear. You didn't lean on me, rely on me, a man who wants nothing from you in return but to see you take your rightful place.

For a woman who'd known no father, the look of paternal disappointment in his blue gaze was crushing. "He asked nothing from

me, either!" I protested.

"Yet," Mr.Balfour said tightly. "There is no witch in this town who will not one day ask something of you."

"Why do you dislike him so?" I cried, exasperated. I adored Mr.Balfour, could feel his strength and true aim, just as I could

Devlin's.

"Why is one mortal life and the power with which that man was born not enough for him? I don't care for any warm vampires. It goes against the grain of what I believe."

I opened my mouth to make a sharp retort, defending Devlin, then closed it again. I could see Mr.Balfour's point; I'd wondered

the same thing myself and had asked Devlin. It wasn't my place to belittle another's beliefs on life and death, their faith,

their view of the proper order of things as they saw it. Although, for Mom, I'd certainly have cheated death any way I could.

If I'd known my blood held such power, I'd have fed it to her daily, even if it had meant sneaking it into her food.

"He said it wasn't about the power," I told Mr.Balfour. "He loves being alive, watching time unfold. He knows that one day

he will die. He's just not ready yet."

"You asked him?"

"That and many other questions."

"Did you give him your blood?"

"No. And he didn't ask for it," I said sharply.

"Ah, my dear Ms.Grey, he will. You brought the letter?"

I withdrew it carefully from the whatnot box I'd emptied, tucking it in with tissue paper cushioning on all sides, afraid

the seal might somehow get cracked and I'd be disqualified from becoming the Cameron heir.

After seven full days and nights in this manor, despite the many terrifying, inexplicable, and disturbing things that had transpired in my life, I'd never felt more strongly that I was home.

This was where I was supposed to be. Here in Divinity, a part of the Cameron clan whose motto was "where there is love (or

clan), there is no law." Talk about passion. Such loyalty and belonging appealed to me immensely.

And yes, it would be frightening. I would make mistakes. I would need to lean on people like Mr.Balfour to teach me not to,

to show me how to make reparation for those mistakes I'd already made.

In a very short time, I'd come to adore it here. It felt... right. I was a sponge, ravenous to soak up all I could about

who I was and might become. I'd not yet gotten to see much of the town and was looking forward to being out in it more. Getting

to know the divine sprawl of a home the Cameron clan had created to keep their witches safe from harm, along with its denizens.

To tend it, guard it, nurture it, devote my life to it.

Mr.Balfour's gaze softened. "Yes," he said softly. "That's why Juniper chose you."

"Did you just use deep sight on me uninvited?" I demanded, with an appalled gasp. I'd felt nothing. And from the brief bit

of instruction Devlin had given me late this afternoon, I now knew exactly how it felt. Althea Bean had been trying to do it to me that night at the Shadows. Then she'd snapped at me for doing it to her. The nerve!

He smiled faintly. "No. It's blazing in your eyes the same way it did in Juniper's. You fell in love with us, as she knew you would. You see us, the value of our way of life, and you are ready, willing, and more than capable of becoming not just a part of it, but Divinity's keeper and protector." He paused a heavy moment, then added, grudgingly, "And if Devlin played any part in solidifying your feelings, I forgive you for disappointing me by going to him."

"I forgive you for being disappointed," I replied tartly.

He laughed, eyes dancing. "That is precisely how Juniper would have responded in similar circumstances."

Accepting the envelope I offered, he inspected the seal carefully and returned it to me.

"Do you know what it says?"

He shook his head. "Whether you choose to confide in me the contents of her letter is up to you." But his eyes made it clear

he hoped I would. He rose slowly and said, "I trust you won't open it until one minute after midnight, and I shall leave you

to it. Text or call if you wish anything of me."

With that, he moved to the door and stepped out into the night.

I glanced at my phone: six minutes to go.

It suddenly felt very important that I be in the right place to read the letter, but I had no idea where that right place

was, only that I had six minutes to find it.

Had the kitchen not currently contained what felt like an icy portal to hell, that was where I would have gone. It was and

would always feel to me (once restored!) like the happy heart of the home. The only other heart I could think of was the original

cabin and, oh hell, no way. Not only did I doubt that the wing would permit me to make it there in under six minutes, it had

begun to feel not like a jewel to be unearthed, but the dark heart of the house.

Nor did my bedroom seem right, or Juniper's suite, not even her office or— Oh!

The conservatory, to which I'd thus far given little more than a cursory look. Surrounded by lush foliage, elemental, calm, restorative, symbolic of the Cailleach's affinity for nature. It was the perfect place to—I hoped—at long last learn the truth of who I was.

Pivoting, I strode briskly through the house and into the kitchen, keeping my eyes averted from the chasm, which I despised

myself for having created and loathed seeing, burst through the back door, hurried to the conservatory, and stepped inside.

Rufus greeted me from his perch in the jackfruit tree with a soft chuffing sound.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I keep forgetting to let you out!" I exclaimed, holding the door ajar.

He made no move to leave; to the contrary, only settled more snugly into the foliage, and I laughed at my sudden fanciful

notion that he'd noted what I clutched in my hand and chosen to remain, to learn along with me, at long last, who I truly

was.

That notion didn't seem quite as fanciful when, as I made my way through the softly illuminated jungle of tropical trees and

flowers, at last finding the waterfall with its small pool encircled by mossy stones, he followed me to roost on a limb above

as I perched on a boulder in that lovely enclave.

Not the best light, but enough to read by. I checked my phone: 12:01 on the dot!

Hands trembling ever so slightly, I turned the envelope over and cracked the waxen seal.

Two pages of thick vellum were tucked inside. Unfolding and smoothing them on my lap, unconsciously holding my breath, I began

to read.

My darlingmost darlings, Zo and Joanna!

I have never felt such joy as I did the day it was confirmed that the two of you are indeed of the Cameron line and our Royal

bloodline endures.

Welcome home, my dearest ones!

My breath exploded from me, and I closed my eyes, blinking back a hot burn of tears. Juniper's warm welcome was one my mother

would never hear.

Mr.Balfour had told me that Juniper slipped into a coma and died six days after my mother. Yet this letter welcomed us both,

which meant it was written before Mom died.

Why, then, was the envelope addressed only to me?

Reaching for my phone, I shot a quick text to Mr.Balfour: Did Juniper slip into a coma before my mother died?

He replied, Yes. She penned those letters in case she didn't survive. It would have broken her heart to learn of your mother's passing.

She wrote a letter for Joanna, too, but instructed me to give it to no one but her. I have it tucked away in a safe place.

I nearly had to stuff a fist in my mouth to keep from screaming. If only Juniper had found us sooner! If only she'd told no one she'd located heirs, because I was convinced it was her revelation of our existence that had dispatched an arsonist to Indiana

and incited the dense gathering of so many witches my first night in Louisiana at Criollo. Someone didn't want us here so

badly that they'd taken measures to prevent our arrival. But I'd not been home with my mother, so a second attempt on my life

had, indeed, been made at the barn. And it would likely continue. I'd quite possibly missed another attempt on my life at

the Hotel Monteleone restaurant simply by not taking the wrong witch to my bed.

May I see Mom's letter, too?

There was a lull this time, then, I will have to give that some consideration , he texted, loyalties clearly torn between past and present heir. Her instructions were precise. Is all well?

Yes. I was just startled that she mentioned both of us. I've only read the first few lines.

Very well. I'm here.

I returned my gaze to the thick vellum and Juniper's lovely, though shaky penmanship, some letters careful and well-formed,

others wobbling.

I'd been searching for so very long, I'd nearly lost hope. But your DNA was a match, which thrilled me to the marrow of my

weary bones. The genetic proof was indisputable: I am, my darling—and my hand trembles with such emotion as I write this,

you must forgive my penmanship, which was once so fine—your great-grandaunt!

I shivered. I had roots, true Cameron roots!

You descend from my brother Marcus, who was lost at war. In finding you and your mother, I found a part of my cherished brother

again. I confess, I spent most of the day weeping when the news was delivered, for I am an old woman, maudlin for days gone

by, finally able to bring Marcus home, after a fashion, and after so very long.

I will never know his story, why my brother failed to return from war. I suspect injury followed by amnesia, as wild horses couldn't have kept him away from his beloved home. It was the cruelest of torments to have no facts, no body to bury and honor. I don't know how you and your mother came to be in Indiana. There is so much I don't know that I wish I did, which I ache to have been part of, but any dismay and sorrow I might feel is eclipsed by happiness, knowing my brother lives on in the two of you, that the Cameron line continues, and my family is coming home to take their rightful place in Divinity.

The manor has been so lonely these past decades! I moved my suite to the south wing long ago. Living in the wing in which

my brothers and I grew up, then sharing it with my daughter until she, too, died, had become unbearable to me. I needed more

connection, more people around.

You may choose to refurbish it. I lacked the heart. I bid you, repair it. Make it magnificent and fill Cameron Manor with

life again!

The view of Divinity is splendid from what was once my suite. I hope you and Joanna grace these hallways with all the love

and laughter that once filled them. I pray you rebuild our line, strong and true.

You must succeed where I failed, Zo.

I nearly let our line die out.

I nearly left our clan unprotected, and for that I will never forgive myself. As with any royalty, there must always be an heir and a spare, preferably more.

I remembered the maid telling me that Juniper had lost a second daughter and been unable to have children after that. How heavy that must have made her heart! It was no wonder she'd devoted such time and so many resources to locating an heir.

I beg you, fill this home with children, grandchildren, and greats, and ensure no one ever makes such a consummate, dangerous

mistake as I did again. We Cameron women rarely take a husband. Don't feel you must. But do get on with things, as rebuilding

our line is now one of your most important duties to Kovan, coven, and clan.

I paused there, pondering how greatly at odds my mother's and Juniper's desires were. Mom had begun urging me to have a baby

around the time I'd turned eighteen, with my power unawakened, so that all magic would be forever extinguished from our bloodline.

Juniper was urging me to have babies with all haste, with my power fully awakened, in order to protect our bloodline. They were such disparate positions, they were impossible to reconcile. Kill the magic on the one hand, protect

it on the other. Why such dichotomous approaches?

Sighing, I resumed reading.

So long as there is only one person to continue our bloodline, Divinity remains in peril. Forgive me for being so blunt—time

is of the essence—but there is safety in the number of heirs. Because none dared try to take me down in the latter half of

my life—Lord knows they did when I was young!—James doesn't fully apprehend the danger I know you are in.

You are young, untried, and there are many from other houses who will see you as a single, simple threat to be eliminated. Joanna is past childbearing age and ill. She will not be perceived as such. I left my legacy to you rather than Joanna because of her illness. Divinity needs a strong, young heir.

You have been in the manor now for seven days and nights. Long enough to have learned how precious are our home, our town,

our people, our clan, our way of life, and our right to live free of persecution for our faith.

I'm so sorry I didn't find you sooner, in time to get Joanna the best of care. But I pray I've found you in time for the two of

you to spend precious years here together.

My hand wearies from writing.

My body aches from living, and my heart is sore from watching so many go before me. A century of life has been both blessing

and curse.

James swears I held on so long from sheer stubborn determination not to leave Divinity unprotected. He's right. He usually

is. James is a fine, solid man with a heart of gold. You can rely upon him to help you settle in. Devlin is another solid

man. You can count on him, trust him implicitly, as I do.

"Aha, take that, James Balfour," I muttered. "She mentions the two of you in the same breath, with the same regard." I wondered

if the coolness between Mr.Balfour and Devlin had bothered Juniper as much as it did me. Then I wondered if, perhaps, they'd

dared not show it in front of her. Maybe it was just me, since I was young and new. Regardless, I planned to nip that behavior

in the bud soon.

Now that I've found Divinity's heir, I am at long last able to breathe easier, slipping, yielding, where once I'd have continued to battle the eternal footman who has turned down the lights and patiently holds my coat, bidding me go. I fear I am not long for this world and will not be here by the time you arrive.

If I am not, please do me a kindness and bring my favorite roses to my grave. Visit me from time to time to tell me of your

life. Listen to this silly old woman, fancying spirits may get to linger! But if they do, mine will be listening and watching

over you.

There's so much I wanted to tell you about your family, and your great-grandfather. About our rich heritage and your enormous

power. About those who can be counted on, those who can be counted upon to be difficult; who to keep at a watchful distance,

who to draw near; but I've dispatched others to those tasks, I've yet to pen Joanna's letter, and tiring as I am from exertion,

I must draw this letter to a close.

I knew Marcus like the back of my hand; his heart was strong and true. You are his direct descendant.

I am entitled to say this. My heart swells with pride, glows with happiness, knowing you'll soon arrive, and I may not get

to tell you this in person.

I love you already, young Zo.

You are a part of my brother, a part of me, descended from a long line of light Cailleach who bring infinite good into the

world. You have roots and a heritage of which to be immensely proud.

You are blood Cameron, to the bone.

Welcome home! I can only pray I live to meet you.

If not, rule wisely, love well and as much as possible, and fill these halls with life again, my dearest, darling great-grandniece.

With love eternal,

Juniper

I was crying by the time I finished. I'd gotten a sense of Juniper from both her lovely home and the way everyone spoke about

her, but only now did I feel I truly knew her. That we'd somehow connected through her letter, as if she'd reached across time and space to touch me so deeply. It

left me aching with disappointment that we'd never met.

Juniper was my great-grandaunt!

I was a blood Cameron!

The burning question of my identity was finally off my plate.

I belonged here. I was the heir. Although the will alone had granted me the legal right to Juniper's legacy, this letter, penned so eloquently in her own hand, confirmed she'd had genetic testing done. Neither

court of law nor dissenters in Divinity could prevent me from inheriting her legacy.

There are many from other houses who will see you as a single, simple threat to be eliminated...

Oh, how accurately she'd called it!

With that thought, I frowned, wondering why she'd risked telling anyone of our existence prior to our arrival. Then I realized

she'd no doubt believed she had to declare the heir, as she wasn't certain she would survive until we arrived.

Were the heir not announced before her death, I could only imagine how fierce the resistance would have been. She'd made her

choice clear, yet opposition still existed in pockets of the town.

I smiled, feeling as if an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders, replaced by a lighter though no less complex and overwhelming one—to assume my place as the head of coven and Kovan, to serve Divinity as well as my great-grandaunt had served.

My great-grandfather was Marcus Cameron, Juniper's brother! I was a light witch, not dark—yet another burning question I could

remove from my very full plate. My father had loved my mother, I had roots, strong and true.

My smiled faded swiftly as I realized all those thoughts only raised another deeply disturbing question.

If not from my father, and not from Divinity, what in the world had my mother spent her entire life running from?

What was the war she'd thought I could never win?

I sighed.

Another letter.

A smidge more information.

Left, still, with burning questions.

Carefully folding the letter and tucking it back into the envelope, I pushed up from the boulder as Rufus whuffed softly above

me. I glanced up into vermillion eyes that held mine longer than bird or beast ever had. I wondered if deep sight worked on

an owl. If so, what did Rufus feel? Did owls think?

Holding that fiery crimson gaze, I expanded my witch senses to discover—

Ow!

"Holy hell!" I exploded. What had just happened? It felt as if I'd gone slamming into a solid wall studded with spikes at

such velocity, I'd ricocheted off it.

Narrowing his eyes to slits, Rufus chuffed as if in rebuke, thrust up from the limb, and soared to the top of the tallest tree in the conservatory.

"Guess not," I muttered, filing that away to ask Devlin about. Did animals resent our intrusion? Was it like that with all

of them, or were owls just particularly testy?

I felt a sudden fierce need to proclaim to the world that, at long last, I knew who I was. Yet I had no one of my own to tell

it to.

That wasn't entirely true, I mused. There was Este.

There was a time that pulling out my phone to call her and babble happily about this would have been effortlessly easy.

Not quite so reflexive now.

Yet she was all I had from my old life, and I couldn't bear the thought of us never being friends again. I strongly hoped

that in time we would find our way back to the relationship I'd trusted and treasured.

I wasn't quite ready to call her, so I sent a text instead.

I AM the Cameron heir! Marcus Cameron, Juniper's brother, was my great-grandfather! I finally know who I am! Followed by a whole line of happy emojis and champagne glasses.

Merely typing those words filled me with such pleasure.

Three dots appeared. Then vanished. Then appeared and vanished several more times.

Then:

Did you find the genetic paperwork proving it?

Well, that was a bit... frosty, I thought, pricked. No, Juniper told me. She left me a letter.

So, you still don't have any proof.

Okay, that was downright icy. I stared at the screen of my phone for a long, stunned moment. Why couldn't Este be happy for me? I'd always been happy for her successes, begrudging none of them.

What are you saying? I fired back.

Just that. You don't have any proof. You have the same thing you had before: someone's word. Why didn't she give you a copy

of the genetic testing?

You can't ever be happy for me, can you? Her letter is more than enough proof, even in a court of law!

Three dots appeared and vanished, over and over again. Finally,

Babe, I want to be happy for you.

Then TRY HARDER! I added angry emojis.

Flipping my phone to mute, I shoved it in my back pocket and stalked from the conservatory, wondering what had happened to

us being forever sisters and always having each other's back.