I slowly arch a brow at her. “The forest being?”
She finishes her wine, then turns fully to face me, leveling me with such a strong stare that I wonder if she just pinned me to the cushion with magic.
“The forest being your relationship. She’s so focused on the here and now that she can’t see that this is actually a good thing—for both of you. Should you have chosen to stay here, the relationship would’ve had to end. You know me well enough to know I couldn’t have allowed such a thing to continue.”
That’s all it takes to make me feel properly scolded. My cheeks warm, and I give her a small nod.
“But now that you’re leaving, well...” Her shoulders rise and fall with a shrug beneath her blue winter dress. “There’s nothing to be done. As soon as you leave this campus, you’re free of the rules that bind you.” She sits forward a bit. “Free to be together.”
I slowly arch a brow at her. “You sound oddly supportive of this, Headmistress.”
Her laughter is light, softened by the wine. “I know you, Cairn. And Lyra might disagree, but I know her too. Andyou’re good for each other, regardless of the differences between you. You needed her to dig you up, to transplant you into a new plot. And she needed you to help her learn stability. From you, she can continue learning how to put down roots, to ground herself and her magic. You’re exactly the fit for each other that I hoped for.”
Now my eyes narrow. “Did you... plan it like this all along?” I ask.
“Of course not.” Lysandra goes to sip from her mug, but there’s no wine left, and a pout tugs on her lips. “Let’s just consider it a happy surprise.”
I shake my head, my horns casting shadows onto the rug beneath my hooves. “I’ve never known you to be surprised by anything, Lysandra. And somehow, I doubt you’re starting now.”
She just gives me another one of those knowing smiles, then holds up her mug. “How about another?”
A laugh rumbles out of me, and I sigh. “Another one sounds great.”
Chapter 42
Lyra
SIDE BY SIDE, PAPA AND I walk the cobbled streets of Wysteria, just like we’ve done since I was a little girl. But today, instead of going to one of the cafés we usually frequent, I grab him by the crook of his elbow and guide him toward my new favorite café: the Wandering Cup.
“What’s this place?” Papa asks as I pull open the door and usher him inside to the chiming of the little bells.
Immediately, I’m overwhelmed with the smells of coffee and cocoa and baked goods. My mouth waters.
“The mom of one of my roommates owns the place. Just wait and see. Layla makes the best strawberry shortcake I’veeverhad.” Then I turn and call out, “Poppy? Layla? You here?”
Their cat—I’m not sure Poppy has ever told me his name—sits in the front window, next to the plants reaching for the winter sunlight. He flicks his ears at us and blinks slowly.
There’s a rustling in the kitchen in the back, and then Poppy’s familiar face appears in the doorway.
“Lyra!” Her eyes crinkle as she smiles, and she uses a knuckle to push her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. “Hi! What are you doing here?”
“Came to get something to eat. And I figured I’d bring my old man along.”
“Hey,” Papa says, reaching up to rustle my hair. “Watch who you’re calling old.”
Poppy comes out from behind the counter and offers Papa her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wilder. My mom’s here too. She’ll be out in just a second. She was almost done frosting a carrot cake.”
“Perfect.” Papa shakes Poppy’s hand, then looks at me with a warm smile. “I’ll order for us both if you two wanna chat, catch up.”
I’m about to ask why we’d need to catch up—we’ve not been on holidaythatlong—when I remember the fire I set to the broom, the tears I shed before we left the house. It’d be nice to talk to Poppy about it, especially because she knows what’s really going on, unlike Papa.
I’m definitely not ready to tell him about Cairn—if there’s anything to tell at all.
“Yeah, okay. Strawberry shortcake for me.”
“Got it.” Papa nods in Poppy’s direction. “Go on. See you in a bit.”
I shrug, then turn to Poppy. One of her lavender brows has a little arch in it, but she doesn’t ask. Instead, she says, “Come on, my room’s up here.”
