Lucy turned back to the twins. “From that book I read something you girls must understand and never, ever, forget—or take lightly. And that is this: there will be a price to be paid every time you exercise your power.”
As the twins glanced at one another yet again, an expression of confusion on the face of each, the door burst open once more.
“Lucy!” the newcomer, an Oathtaker, Dalton, cried. “You have to come!”
She jumped to her feet. “What is it?”
“That woman you brought with you here from the city to help you with all of the books and to pack up—”
“Saga?” she asked.
“Yes! She’s— She’s dead! She was fine just a few minutes ago. She asked me to have Adele make her some parsnip root tea. I returned with it and gave it to her and then, minutes later, she doubled over in pain. The next thing I knew, she seemed to have a . . . a seizure of some kind. And then she couldn’t breathe! And now, she’s— She’s dead! I don’t know what could have happened.”
Lucy dropped her head in her hands, shook it, and then looked back up at Dalton. “I’ll be right with you,” she said. “Would you kindly wait outside for a minute?”
He stepped out.
She turned back to the twins. “The price has been exacted.”
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