CHAPTER SEVEN
Sophia was running around the halls of a great house, and there was joy there, not flames. She and Kate were laughing, her sister’s smaller hands reaching up for the bronze figurine of a horse, the edge of a tablecloth.
“Be careful, girls,” Anora called from behind them, the nanny following along in their wake. “You mustn’t disturb your father.”
But I want Daddy, Kate sent over to Sophia. I want to play soldiers.
We could find Mother, Sophia sent back. She could tell us a story.
Sophia loved listening to old stories told in that beautiful, peaceful-sounding voice: Bren and the Giant, The Seven Sisters of the Island; it seemed that their mother knew more stories than there were stars in the sky, telling them about all the old creatures of magic that were now so rare they
