Chapter 38

• KNOX
• Dad's study feels different when we arrive—charged with an energy that makes my skin crawl. The familiar scent of blackberry tea and old books is overpowered by something else, something that tastes like copper and shadows. Candles flicker despite the absence of any breeze, casting dancing shadows across the walls lined with ancient tomes.
• But it's not just Dad waiting for us. A woman I vaguely recognize sits in one of the leather chairs facing his desk, her silver hair braided with small bones and feathers. She's elderly but moves with the fluid grace of someone far younger, her dark eyes sharp with intelligence.