Page 80 of The Witch is Back

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to think these things through like the daughter I tried to create. You will have important responsibilities as Bastian’s bride, Emmaline, and it’s obvious you’re already falling short.”

A tremor made the compact quiver, but Emma forced herself to hold it steady.

“We obviously can’t undo this mess you’ve created, so you and Bastian will dine at the manor tonight.”

“I have plans—”

“No.” Clarissa barely bothered to acknowledge her before continuing. “And I want to see you beforehand. Goddess knows what kind of impression you made on the Truenotes without proper instruction or inspection. What did you wear? No,” she said in the next clipped breath. “I don’t want to know. The damage has been done. You will come to the manor tonight at six sharp and present yourself for inspection. I also want to see what you are planning on for the Exhibition. I will not have our family embarrassed by your pitiful magic.”

Emma’s stomach roiled at the idea of all of that. “I don’t—I mean, I don’t think... Well, I mean, it’s...”

“For the Goddess’s sake, Emmaline.” Her mother’s lips pinched. “Talk properly.”

A swallow got stuck in her throat. Emma fisted her free hand hard, so the nails bit into her palms. The pain helped ground her and she managed to take a breath. And another. “Bastian might not be free tonight.” Either, she finished in her head.

“Emmaline, I do not have time for excuses. Why don’t you shock us all and not be a disappointment this time? I’ll see you at six.”

Clarissa’s image faded to white before the mirror returned to normal, revealing Emma’s pale face. Not even pale, she thought, disconnected. She looked like she was about three days from death.

Her hands began to shake and the compact dropped from her nerveless fingers. She brought them to her face, pressed them into her eyes, practicing inhaling and exhaling.

Then she dragged her cell from her back pocket and dialed Bastian.

He answered on the third ring. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

“I’m so sorry.”

His voice took a sharp turn into concern. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Emma stared at her shoes. Black flats. Sensible. “My mother called.”

“Oh?” His voice turned cool, as it always did on the subject.

“She was...was...”

“Emma? What did she say? Do you need me to portal to you?”

“No.” She didn’t want him to see her so pitiful. Get it together. “She was angry that I’d had dinner with your family and you haven’t with her.”

He took a beat that stretched to a couple of years. “Right,” he said eventually with a heavy dose of resignation. “Sounds petty enough for Clarissa. I take it our presence has been demanded.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It didn’t sound fine to Emma’s ears and she bit back another sorry. “We’ll eat, we’ll drink, we’ll drink more.” His voice brightened. “Maybe we’ll explore and accidentally break something.”

She wouldn’t have thought it possible so soon after a call with her mother, but his attempt at humor tickled her throat, enough to make her smile.

“Dinner. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Well, what time do you want me to pick you up?”

The smile fell. “I have to go first for the inspection.”

“Inspection?”

Damn. That had slipped out. “Never mind. Just come at seven.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you? I’ll face the wrath of Clarissa.”

“No. Just...don’t be late?”

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