Page 126 of The Witch is Back

“Because you dragged me in here,” Emma muttered, seating herself.

“What was that?”

Emma blanched, realizing she’d said it aloud. She plucked her skirt. “We had—Well, it’s like this.” Why was this still so hard? She bore down, despising her own weakness. “We—before the Exhibition—kind of had a—a disagreement.”

“A fight.” Her mother paced up the Persian rug and back. The cocktail dress swished with silk and fury. “Why would you do that to us?”

Us? Emma stared at her blankly.

“Emmaline. Don’t play dumb. You know what happens with Bastian affects all of us. We are this close to securing this marriage. We don’t need you killing the deal right before the handshake.”

Of course her mother would assume it was her fault.

Okay, it had been, but for the right reasons.

Right?

A headache drilled behind her eyes and she ached to close them. “The marriage is still happening, Mother.”

“Yes, it is. And on your wedding night, I’ll be able to finally relax.”

Will you be climbing into bed with us? So badly did Emma want to say it, but she knew there was no point. She tried changing the subject. “Everyone seemed pleased with the Exhibition.”

“Mm.” Clarissa waved that away. “Bastian carried you, but I can’t say I expected much more. At least you didn’t embarrass us. The trick was...okay.”

“It was great.” Emma tensed as the words popped out, but Goddess, her mother could just not give a compliment. About anything.

“Don’t let a little applause go to your head.”

“It was good, Mother,” Emma repeated, bunching her skirt in her fists. “I was good.”

“You were adequate, although I still say you and Bastian should have performed separately. But we all know what that arrogant warlock thought of that.” Her face mottled with color at the memory. “If he thinks he can speak to me like that after you’re married, he has a hard lesson coming.”

Emma wondered what she’d say if she learned of the ring Kole had had crafted to prevent Clarissa from doing what she was imagining. It would almost be worth telling her, but Emma didn’t relish the thought of getting witch-slapped across the room. Clarissa not only killed the messenger, she sent him back in tiny bits to make her point.

“The disrespect he showed... Well, it’s clear that he’s been spoiled all his life. What else can you expect from a Higher son, especially one who ran from his responsibilities?” Her lips pinched. “And did we get an apology? No, all we got were excuses and prevarications. Cuts from other families and whispered jokes about us. I endured it all.”

Such a heroine.

“I knew he’d be back. I knew he’d toe the line eventually.” A feline smile that sent chills down Emma’s spine settled on her face. “With his precious mother falling victim to the curse clause, how could he not?”

Emma felt it ripple through her. “You knew about the curse.” She’d suspected, but to have it confirmed...

“Of course I did. I helped your father write up the contract, though the weak-minded fool tried to talk me out of it. Kept on and on about choices. Having the right to choose. We had a shot at securing an invitation to the upper ranks of society and your father chooses to grow a conscience?” She all but spat the word. “So weak.”

“Dad was a good man.”

Cold eyes flitted to her. “Weak,” she repeated. “And I was proved right. You think Bastian would be back if it wasn’t for the clause?”

Pain stabbed Emma in the heart. “No.” And he might not have left in the first place if it hadn’t been for her choices.

Choices. It was all about choices.

“That’s right,” her mother declared. “No. I engineered it all. And on and on your father went about wanting you to be happy, to choose, to have veto power—”

Emma’s chin snapped up. “Veto power?”

Clarissa’s eyes flickered. “Nothing. A whim of his. I put a stop to it.”

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