The Hidden Heiress Is Back

ivy-draped manors, secrets sealed behind heavy doors and family crests no longer polished. Among the well-heeled families of Halverton, power passed down through bloodlines like antique

she occasionally assisted, and certainly not the neighbors who waved politely but never looked her direct

clutching a parcel of letters bound with string. The morning was cold, the kind that gnawed a

on't linger. Don't draw notice. Don't ask q

it in the distance-Trelling House. It sat like a mausoleum, gray and grand, with its towers piercing the mornin

barefoot, her mother bleeding out on the white marble floor, her f

And someone h

nd startled her.

the bridge with a satchel of apples. He barely met her eyes. No

kbindery, who always gave Faye a crooked gr

ed, rubbing a cloth over her ink-st

ated. "Wha

t one of the usual sort. A private one-anonymous. Offering f

ice. She forced a chuck

Not a poem. A warning

eaving through tight passageways and broken fences until she reached the modest stone cottage behind Sa

flames offered no comfort. Violet eyes. How many people had those? How many girls had once b

y o

he mantel. Her reflection stared back-pale skin, ink-black hair, and

ng" in years, not even from her own lips. B

returned. It always di

name from the mist. Not Faye. Seraphina. She turned in the dream to see her m

her said, voice like falling

er, but her mother turn

re dawn, breat

ed with cataloguing in exchange for access to the restricted histories. It

" the sister said. "Asking aft

spiked. "What

gers. Said he was looking for a cousin. But whe

leave

coat, gloves despite the heat. Eyes li

y, calmly. "If he returns..

nd brushed a wisp of hair from Faye's face

smile before slipping into

no lon

tises of House Law-a dusty tome she kept beneath her floorboards. I

king hands. A single sentence, writ

have until the blood moo

nature. There di

ive wrote with that silv

uren T

ked away behind the northern mou

t since the whispers of rebellion, of stolen funds and secret armies.

dden h

g at the flickering shadows on the w

oon rose in

it. Burn the note

bborn-refused. She had lived her life running

flask of bitterleaf, and a small, silver ring shaped like a raven

ing, locked the cottage door behin

Trellin

name she