Beautiful Chaos (Caster Chronicles 3)

She pushed a curl back to show me her earlobe—a tiny gold butterfly, with one gold wing and one green. “Uncle Macon had them made. And this.” She pointed to a tiny butterfly that rested in the hollow of her neck, attached to a delicate gold chain.

I wished she was wearing her charm necklace, too. The only times I’d ever seen her without it didn’t end well. And I never wanted anything about Lena to change.

She smiled.

I know. I’ll put it on my charm necklace after tonight.

I leaned in and kissed her. Then I held up the small white box I was holding. Amma had made her a corsage by hand, like she did last year.

Lena opened the box. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe there’s a flower still blooming anywhere near here.” But there it was, a single golden blossom, nestled between looping green leaves. If you looked at them right, they were their own version of wings, almost as if Amma had known.

Maybe there were still some things she could see coming.

I slid the corsage onto Lena’s wrist, but it snagged. As I tugged on it, I noticed she was wearing the thin silver bracelet from Sarafine’s box. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to ruin the night before it even started.

Link honked the horn and cranked up the music even louder.

“We’d better go. Link’s crashing and burning out there. At least, he wishes he was crashing and burning.”

Lena took a deep breath. “Wait.” She put her hand on my arm. “There’s one more thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t be mad.” There was no guy in the world who didn’t know what those words meant. She was about to give me a reason to be mad.

“I won’t.” My stomach curled into a ball.

“You have to promise.” Even worse.

“I promise.” My stomach tightened, and the ball became a knot.

“I told them they could come.” She said it quickly, as if I would be less likely to hear her.

“You told who what?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. There were so many wrong answers to that question.

Lena pushed open the doors to Macon’s old study. Through the crack, I could see John and Liv standing together in front of the fireplace. “They’re together all the time now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was pretty sure something was going on. Then Reece saw them repairing Macon’s broken grandfather clock, and she

saw their faces.”

A clock. Like a selenometer, or a motorcycle. Things that worked the way Liv’s mind did. I shook it off. Not John Breed, not with Liv.

“Fixing a clock?” I looked at Lena. “That’s the big giveaway?”

“I told you, Reece saw them. And look at them. You don’t have to be a Sybil to figure it out.”

Liv was wearing an old-looking dress, like something she probably found in Marian’s attic. It was low across her shoulders and hung in some complicated lacy way that only the worn leather scorpion belt interrupted. She looked like someone out of a movie you would watch in your English class after you’d read the book. Her blond hair was loose, instead of in braids. She looked different. She looked… happy. I didn’t want to think about it.

L? What’s going on?

Watch.

John was standing behind her, wearing what was probably one of Macon’s suits. He looked like Macon used to—dark and dangerous. He was pinning a corsage to a lacy strap on Liv’s shoulder. She was teasing him, and I recognized the tone.

And Lena was right. Anyone who saw them together could tell something was going on.

Liv caught his hand as he fumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t actually draw blood.”

He tried again. “Then hold still.”