Page 211 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

Her father took her out of her mother’s arms, and Shannon grabbed a backpack, heading for the door.

“Mum!” she cried.

“I love you,” Shannon said.

Adair hurried Kierse into a closet. “Just like we practiced, remember?”

Kierse nodded and huddled in the corner, folding herself up as small as she could while her father piled their clothes and coats on top of her. The door to the closet shut just as their front door burst inward.

She could hear her mother’s shrieks as a softpopsounded twice. A loud thump that Kierse now realized must have been her mother’s body.

“Shannon!” Adair cried.

Another pop. Another thump.

“Was there a third?” a distorted voice asked.

“I heard there may be a child,” a woman said.

“Can you feel them here?”

There was a long pause. Kierse’s younger body shivered under the weight of the coats, trying to keep from breathing too loudly, terrified they could hear her heartbeat.

“No. There’s no other magic in the apartment,” the woman said.

“Good.”

Then the door opened and slammed again.

Kierse yanked free from the memory. Blood ran out of her nose, over her lip, and down her chin. Tears coated her lashes. Graves handed her a tissue.

“I remember. I remember it all,” Kierse whispered as she wiped at her nose. The rest of the memory rang through her like a gong. “I think I’ve known for a while. The Fae Killer showed up. That’s who that was.”

“Yes,” Graves guessed. “Your mother didn’t leave soon enough, and he found you.”

“How?”

“I think the woman with him senses magical signatures. Possibly she can hunt them. Though I haven’t heard of any warlock with that ability.”

“I see,” she said softly. “I remember the rest. The block—I think the block is gone. I came out of the closet, and they had bullets in their chests. I ran out to the street totell someone what happened, but as soon as I was away from my mom, I forgot what wisps were. I forgot I had parents,” Kierse told him, staring down at her hands. “Like the spell wrapped itself around me like a cloak once I was free.”

“He made you forget magic. So your past would disappear as well.”

Kierse nodded. She glanced up at him. “He stole everything from me.” She set her mouth. “I would like to find out why.”

She’d witnessed her parents’ deaths. Now and in the past. And no matter how much her mind had shielded her from it, how much the spell had removed, it still lived in her. No wonder she’d had trouble opening up. No wonder she struggled to accept love. From Gen and Ethan and now Graves…

Her hand went to the wren necklace at her throat. Her mom had said that a wren would sing open the door to faerie. That she should follow it, and it would take her home. Was that literal? Or metaphorical? Prophecy? It sounded like an old wives’ tale.

“Not everything,” she corrected. She touched the necklace. “I kept my wren, and it brought me to you.”

“It did,” he agreed.

“Had you ever heard that tale, about wrens opening the doors to faerie?”

“Never,” he said. “Not in all my years.”

It didn’t even make sense, but she would have to investigate it once they’d gotten the cauldron. That was still the most important thing.

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