Page 165 of The Blairville Legacies

“I’m sorry, Bay...”

“If you’re sorry, then come home with menow.”

I couldn’t accept her apology because words were just words. Her actions were what mattered.

Mum took a deep breath.

“You have to get through this.”

Of course, her words were worthnothing. Didn’t she care that much about me?

Mum continued to ignore me.

“No matter what happens now, don’t speak unless you’re told to. Do as you’re told, and don’t be afraid, especially of Amara. If you get nauseous, don’t stop, or it will get worse. And if they ask weird questions, let me answer for you, okay?”

If she had wanted to calm me down with that, she had achieved exactly the opposite.

Why the hell would I get nauseous? What was waiting for me there?Did I even want to know?

She put her hand on my forearm, and I suppressed the urge to slap it away.

“We’re late, come on.”

And then she got out, leaving me with all my questions and anger.

Close your eyes and get through it, Bay. You’re going to show them now that all of this is a mistake, and you don’t belong to the Garden Wizards, or whatever they call themselves.

I got out and briskly followed my mother across the cobbled courtyard, up the stairs, where she rang a bell as raven cries tore through the gloomy full moon night.

My heart slipped again as the door opened on its own with no one there.

Mum entered just like that.

“Diana, good to see you again.”

A short, petite woman with a dark ponytail, maybe ten years younger than Mum, smiled kindly at her before turning to me.

“You must be Bayla. Welcome to Moenia.”

Wherethe hell?

I eyed her suspiciously. Only now did I notice her floor-length black robe.

Great. Here one ran around likeGandalf.... What came next? Unicorns? Flying broomsticks? Witches’ hats?

“I’m Margot.” The young woman held out her hand to me, and I shook it out of reflex. Then she held out robes to me and Mum as well, her a black one, which Mum slipped on without hesitation, and me a white one.

I hesitantly accepted the thing before I did the same as both of her and Mum and I followed this Margot through the extensive hallway of the building toward a wide staircase that led down to another floor.

Somehow, the house seemed much larger from the inside, especially considering that the basement alone seemed to make up two levels.

Thisbasementwas mostly a hallway with old antiques and paintings from other centuries on the dark red wallpaper.

We passed dozens of bookshelves, and I was tempted to decipher the titles, but either they were faded or we walked past them too quickly without even a chance to run my finger, tingling with curiosity, over the book spines.

Yellowish lamps alternated with candlesticks mounted in wall brackets to light our way.

We came to the end of one of the countless corridors, where a meter-high golden globe waited for us.

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