I whisper to Maisey as she fidgets with the loops of her ribbon.

“Mimi's right. There's more wrong than a sick cat.”

She shrugs, but doesn’t look up at me. “I’m sure your Mom will tell you tomorrow.”

“I don't think she would.” I glance at the distracted folks. “I’m going out there.”

She turns her wide, green eyes on me. “What?”

“I’ll need you to hold back anyone who tries to stop me.” I slide onto my feet and tiptoe around Maisey’s chair.

Maisey waves her hands up and down before her small body. “How do you expect me to do that?”

I pause. “I don’t know, but… please?”

She exhales and frowns. “Okay. I’ll try.”

I continue toward the doors. I want to run and fling them open, but I can’t afford the attention. I sneak, step by step, for what feels like minutes. I watch my brothers and their girlfriends with the hope that they are all too focused on their own interactions to notice me slip—

My shoulder bumps into the backrest of a stool, scooting it loud and hard on the floor. All of the people I wanted to alert the least turn to me.

This is a stupid idea. How is Maisey supposed to stop any of them, let alone all of them? She could wrap herself around one of their legs, probably Max’s. Would Mimi or Yoyo try to stop Hanna if she tried to stop me?

Max starts toward me. “Klóe, what are you—?”

A brassy, calm voice interrupts him with long, sweet tones. The world seems to stop on its axis. All of the tension in the room, all of the worry about what my oldest brothers are hiding from me and Mimi drifts away from my mind.

“In the autumn’s silver breeze

I feel your breath wash o'er me,

C’ressing mem’ries near and dear

And making my heart whole…”

A distant, sucking snap breaks my attention. I blink hard and fast. The song is still beautiful, but that... floating peace is gone. My brothers and friends remain still, barely swaying, with silly grins on their faces. I turn to Maisey, resting her cheek in her hand and her elbow on the table, and catch a glimpse of Maryl standing in front of her seat. She sings with one hand over her heart and the other stretched out to her side.

Is this how a songstress casts spells? How was I able to break free?

Maryl points her hand at me, palm-down. She lets two fingers hang, then wiggles them past each other in the air.

Oh!

I slip to the doors. I ease one open, spin around, and peek back at Maryl.

She winks at me without dropping a note.

I nod in gratitude and close the door.

I hurry from the back corner of the house to the parlor. There is as good a spot as any to start my search for answers, and Maryl's distraction won’t last much longer. But the farther I go through the hallways, the tighter the knot in my stomach clenches. Once the left side of the central staircase appears, I slow down and make myself as small as I can.

Mr. Veratog stands on the landing with his back to me. Mom paces into and out of sight in front of him.

I cross the hall to creep as close as I can to the sitting room. I can almost hear what they're saying: Mom mentions something about someone's "cursed idea," and Bastien somewhere talks about a debt. Where's Mrs. Brickover in all of this?

The front doors slam open. I freeze against the wall and peer into the sitting room.

Echoes of footsteps reach me before the first shapes appear. Mom stops pacing. She runs to the foyer.

“Max!”

Mom’s anguished cry stops my heart. She doesn’t shout like that. She doesn't run like that.

I run into the sitting room. I duck away from Mr. Veratog before he can reach for me. I stop against the backrest of a couch at the center of the room.

Someone wearing shimmering black armor carries Daddy across their arms. Daddy’s coat is wrapped around his right shin, but that pant leg is tattered from the knee down. His left arm is bare from his shoulder past his elbow. The exposed skin beneath the ruined bits of his clothing is covered in wrinkled, black scars. Dark bruises swell up on the sides of his face.

Daddy makes a strangled, creaky groan when Mom reaches his side. She puts her hand on his cheek.

Another person in a nearly identical suit of armor follows the first. Bastien marches straight to the visitor. They talk, and he rubs his bad hand like he always does when he makes a demand. This new visitor gives Bastien what looks like a canvas satchel. Bastien follows Daddy, Mom, and the first guest to the stairs.

These guests are not only new to me, but off-putting. They move far too well in so much metal armor. The plates look too… close. The suits would be too tight to fit even the slightest person inside.

I spin around the couch to dodge Mr. Veratog's grasp once again. I turn to race for the stairs, but stop with a gasp.

The leaving visitor towers between me and my family.

The slots in the helmet where the guard’s eyes should be are filled with a pulsing, golden, fire-like energy. That same color flows in lines across the armor plates and faintly in the gaps between.

I look directly into the creature’s golden eyes. Animated armor, elemental possession, eerily thin folk I’ve not heard of before – I don’t care. I want some answers.

“What happened to my father?” I ask, clearly and loudly enough to reach the high ceiling of the room.

Each head turns to me, but nobody stops to answer. Instead, a hand clutches my shoulder and pulls me away from the group.

“Sorry, miss,” Mr. Veratog says with all due sincerity. “You weren’t meant to see this.”

I try to shrug him off, but his grip is too firm. Mr. Veratog picks me up from under my shoulders. I barely see Mr. Tielswen run downstairs and take Daddy’s face in his hands before Mr. Veratog turns me around.

Dimitri and Maximus round the corner into the hallway, arguing with each other. Mim notices Mr. Veratog carrying me, then tries to rush forward.

“What’s going on over there? Let her go!”

Max grabs Mimi’s wrist before he gets too far away. “Dammit, Dimitri, control yourself!”

Mimi yanks free and spins toward our oldest brother. His jaw and eyes are so tight, I don’t know what he might do.

“Mimi, stop!”

He turns to me and starts to say something, but his mouth snaps shut. He looks back at Max, who stands an arm’s length away with his hands slightly raised.

Mr. Veratog places me between my brothers. Of course, he stays within arm’s reach of me and Mimi, but I don’t feel like running anymore.

Max nods gratefully at Mr. Veratog. “The last thing Dad needs right now,” he says in a shakily low voice, “is all of us barging in on him with a bunch of questions—”

Mimi shakes his head. “No, what Dad needs is his family at his side.”

I take a deep breath. “Max may be right.”

Both of my brothers turn to me. Max looks relieved, but Mimi looks confused, almost hurt. I describe what I saw of Daddy’s injuries. Mimi stares at me in disbelief after I finish. Max covers his eyes and shakes his head. Nobody says anything to cover up the sound of boots on carpet behind me.

I look over my shoulder. Bastien approaches with two men in gray-and-brown driving uniforms. I take a moment to recognize them as Mr. Leland and Mr. Marcus. Not Mr. Veratog’s husband, who also works as my security detail, just regular driver Mr. Marcus. The three of them stop in front of Max, Dimitri, and me.

Bastien stands up straight. He rubs his hand near the base of his missing fingers and frowns at me. He clenches his jaw, takes a deep breath, and addresses all of us.

“Dad’s injuries are serious, but stabilizing. We have the medicines we need to aid his recovery, and Mr. Tielswen has the expertise to apply them. To expedite his healing, all nonessential functions and events within the manor are suspended, pending Dad’s recovery. If the three of you could bid our guests farewell, Leland and Marcus will take them home. Mr. Tielswen has already started his treatment, so Dad is to have no visitors tonight. Understood?”

I nod and look back at Mimi. He narrows his eyes at our brother, but eventually nods, too.