Ankha glared out the kitchen window.
My mouth closed. My brow furrowed.
I was now more than half-convinced dear Aunt Ankha wasn’t of sound mind. Maybe that was the real reason for the neglect and the disappearances and her shoddy building maintenance. Maybe that was how she could dump two kids in this big house and think it was enough to leave them cash in envelopes and eventually, once she remembered, enroll them in a posh boarding school that meant a thirty-minute bus ride in either direction.
Oh, did I not mention that?
Because that was another thing dear, sweet, Aunt Ankha did. She completely forgot to put either of us in school until I was almost thirteen. Thanks to that little mental hiccup, I’d be the oldest student in my class to graduate in July.
That was another reason I’d been furious when she refused to let me skip years. I might’ve at least managed to catch up to myactualclass, if she’d only signed off on the offers to skip me, but for some unimaginable reason, she’d flatly refused.
Ankha glanced at her odd clock, the one hanging over the kitchen table.
I’d long been fascinated by the workings of that clock. I used to stare at it for hours when I was little, trying to figure out what the hieroglyphic-type markings meant.
I still couldn’t read it.
Even after scanning books on cryptography and ancient languages to try and puzzle it out, I had no idea what time it told, or if it told any kind of time at all.
The few recognizable symbols I’d found had been printed backwards and upside down on the clock’s round face. Moreover, there were five arms instead of two, and all five sometimes moved backwards instead of forward, often independently of one another, with some moving forward and some backwards at the same time.
The one time I thought to ask, Ankha pointedly refused to answer any of my questions about it.
“We must go,” Ankha huffed. She began bustling around the table, picking up Archie’s plate and my coffee mug and his glass full of juice and tossing them all in the sink. She didn’t so much as flinch when a few of those things shattered. “We cannot be late. We cannot.”
I scowled at the dishes, which I’d likely need to either glue together or replace.
“Arcturus?” I began coldly.
“Can get to school perfectly well on his own.” Ankha gave me a disdainful look. “You’ve been managing for yourself since you were younger than him. How do you expect him to grow up, with how you baby him?”
I opened my mouth, closed it.
There were so many absurdities in that one statement, I didn’t know where to begin.
“It’s his birthday,” I said finally, maybe out of desperation.
My aunt leveled another hard stare. “He’ll manage that without you, too.”
I frowned. “Hewon’tmanage it without me. I’m all he has. And I’d really rather spend it with him, if it’s all the same. He’s been looking forward to it, and he’ll wonder if I?”
“Leda Rose Shadow-La Fey,” Ankha snapped. “Did you hearanyof what I just said? Or are you really as daft as that brother of yours?”
My face swiftly grew hot. “He’s not?”
My aunt cut me off. “This is not a discussion. We are leaving. Now.”
I opened my mouth to argue. Then, realizing it was futile to ask, I got up from the table and simply began walking in the direction of the staircase. Iwouldsay goodbye to him, and happy birthday, and remind him of the places to avoid on his way to the bus stop and on the school grounds, even if it did no good. I’d barely made it two steps however, when Ankha caught hold of my arm.
The iron-like grip squeezed, startling me, and catching my breath.
I didn’t think, but turned, glaring at her. “Let go of me.”
“I will not,” Ankha bit out. “Do not disobey me, child. You will regret it.”
“I’m not a child,” I snapped. “And I only needone minute!I’ll go with you, if you’d just?”
“And I haven’t asked much of you, Leda,” Ankha warned. “I’ve required even less. But I’m requiring this.” Her eyes grew probing. “I’ve explained to the boy why you won’t be going with him. He understands.”
