“Brand is a surviving heir of Castle Satyros?” Ida whispered.

“Of what?” Lotte asked.

It was breakfast the next morning, and Brand was not yet up. Seri was telling the other girls about last night’s strange conversation with Brand, and she was halfway through his claims of revenge, when Ida dropped her spoon in her porridge and went pale.

“You have not heard of the breaking of Castle Satyros?” Ida asked.

“No,” Seri said, feeling irritated.

Although some sorcerer families were very proud of their deeds, others, Seri’s included, kept their history a secret—particularly from its women. Oh, there was, doubtless, some vault with ancient family histories buried among the mold, but Seri did not know where these histories were, nor how to access them. Her father saw no value in teaching history to women, and even her mother told her, she’d be happier if she were ignorant.

This ignorance was causing her a fair amount of trouble at the moment.

“Castle Satyros,” Lotte mused. “The name sounds familiar. Isn’t there a poem about it?”

Ida looked around the room. “Not in here.

They grabbed rolls and fruit and went out to the garden, where there were no mirrors to spy on them. Seri’s lilies were fragrant and blooming. Sitting among the flowers, Seri felt safe—as safe as they were ever going to be. Ida hunched low amid the green stalks, as if trying to hide. She played with her hands and licked her lips.

“Castle Satyros was the home of one of the most powerful bloodline of sorcerers. It was a pure magic house, meaning that they drew their power almost exclusively from magic, rather than from land or armies or wealth. Of course, they had some lands and monies, but they were not, you understand, a worldly family. As the saying goes, powerful men cast long nets or dive deep. Castle Satyros dove deep into the secrets of magic.”

“So they were knowledgeable,” Seri said.

“And powerful,” Ida added. “The men married well, and magic ran strong in their veins. However, in recent years, a change came across the family. They had mastered magic and now wished for earthly rule. As they seized resources, other families became concerned. And so it was decided that the Castle must be broken.”

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“Decided by whom?” Seri asked.

Ida shrugged. “I don’t know. Men, I suppose. At any rate, it is no easy thing to break castle. It is not the walls you need to topple, but the people. Those of blood can access the power of previous the generations. To break a Castle, you must kill off any who carry that bloodline, no matter their age or their sex.”

“You mean assassinate them?” Seri asked.

“Yes,” Ida said. “Away from the castle, if possible. And once broken, it’s never spoken of again. The house is dead, the family forgotten.”

“Why?” Lotte asked.

“Because no one can say for sure if the line is wiped out,” Ida said. “One bastard child from some obscure corner of the globe can resurrect a broken castle. Better that the history be forgotten, that the secrets never come to light.”

“But you didn’t forget?” Seri said.

“No. I couldn’t. This was not the suppression of a minor house. This was a war. It could not be done in secret, as it was usually done. They tried but—”

She sucked in her breath.

“The first blow destroyed all but the master of the castle. To kill him required another decade. Even now, there floats rumors of secret sons, bastard children, who lie in wait to enact revenge. My father—I’m not supposed to know this—but he is one of those dedicated to finding and extinguishing any potential offspring.”

Seri was silent.

This was shocking—in its bloodiness, in its cruelty, but mostly in its secrecy. Could such terrible deeds happen and be forgotten—buried by time and silence? Could her family have taken part? Seri knew her father could not have, as he had no magic, but his brother, Seri’s uncle, a powerful sorcerer—he would have been of age to fight. Had he killed Brand’s family?

Seri didn’t know much about her uncle. He was her father’s elder brother. He was meant to be the master of Castle Staghome, and Seri’s mother was originally engaged to him. But something had happened to him, long before Seri was born, and he’d relinquished his claim on castle, fiancé, everything. He’d abandon them to wander the earth as a hermit. Seri rarely saw him. The last time was at her mother’s funeral. Uncle Englebert crackled with power, but his clothes were shabby and his face haggard. He said nothing to her and disappeared shortly after the hymns were sung.

Could this sad, lonely stranger be a ruthless assassin?

She shook her head.

“We don’t even know if Brand is an heir of Castle Satyros,” Seri said. “When did this happen?”

“I’m not sure. Twenty years ago, perhaps.”

The timeline fit with the age she guessed.

“It’s still possible that Brand heard these rumors and latched onto them,” Seri argued. “Men have done so before, claiming some mythical ancestor, for fame and notoriety. The chance that he is a survivor is very slim.”

“He could be lying, of course,” Ida said. She didn’t sound convinced.

“Surely, if he were a survivor, he would know who to enact revenge upon.”

Ida shook her head. “These things are done in secret. Nobody is going to admit to slaughtering a bloodline. It was not one family who waged this secret war against him, but many—and my family participated. My grandfather, my great-uncles, even my father all helped break Castle Satyros.” Ida sank low into the lilies. “I fear, he wants his revenge on me.”