That night I opted out of dinner. I was still so angry with Annalise, and I couldn’t bear to see Tristan and everything felt wrong, when it had felt so right this morning.

I was lost enough that I did something I haven’t done in ages. I went to the small altar in my dressing room, which held three things. A portrait of my mother, a candle and a small bowl of sand from the beach at brightcoast.

I don’t know as much about this practice as I do about honoring the goddess. Because of my magic, and my education by sisters, that’s what I learned. I lit the candle, and I meditated quietly on memories of my mother and Brightcoast, but all I could do was cry.

There was a knock on the door. I stood up and wiped my eyes and walked over and opened the door. Annalise…