Skylar.

My mother was waiting for me on the cottage porch at Ashgrove, and for once she wasn't humming.

It was dusk. The ruins behind her were turning purple, and the moon was already rising over the broken wall of the lodge, huge and pale and almost round. Conrad had gone with Dean to the courtyard to get ready. Atlas was on the road with his men. That left the two of us.

“Sit,” she said.

“I'll stand.”

“Skylar.” She sighed. “Please.”

I sat on the edge of the step, as far ...