Chapter 122

Sloane

I made the tea in the little kettle Cassandra had brought up for me the first week, on the plate by the window, because I was still not trusted with the kitchens.

Kaia Finnegan sat in my chair while I did it, with her hands in her lap and her back very straight, in a pale green silk dress that cost more than anything I owned now. She hadn’t said a word since the top of the stairs. She was looking at the window, at the black glass and her own reflection in it, as if she were waiting for something to come up out of the dark on the other side.

I knew that look. I had worn it for most of a month.

I put a cup in her hands. She took it without seeming to notice.

“Drink that,” I said. “It’s mostly honey. Cassandra swears by it.”

She drank some. Then a little more. After a while, her shoulders came down half an inch from around her ears, and she looked at the cup properly for the first time, and then at me.

“Thank you,” she said. “For