Mr. Volkov lowered his fist, only to minutely adjust the position of his tie beneath the starched collar of his shirt as if to gather himself enough time to cool his fiery temper. His voice softened but there was still a nasty bite to his tone. "We have our place in this world and the upper ranks have theirs. As it has always been. A crossing between ranks has never, and will never be permitted." He scoffed, tipping up his nose, and glanced briefly away to the bleeding leaves above us. "Imagine the chaos if any one of us could become one of them?"

He regarded me with disdain. All the air was trapped in my throat as I wondered what he was going to do next. But instead, he drew a deep breath through his nostrils and relaxed slightly. He shifted closer and I backed up against the town car. He rested a hand on the glossy curve of its roof, half-boxing me in, as he drummed his fingers with annoyance. "There is a noble quality in what we do, how we serve the upper ranks. Our own families have just as long lineages as theirs. Order must be maintained within the world of servants. High morals and purity are what we expect from our young." My shoulders shrank inward. Didn't I know it? I wished it were different. I thought a lot of my peers wished for it too. "My forefathers have served the Deniuads, as I have done, as my son will do too."

I blinked. It was strange to hear what Romain had said to me last night echoed through Mr. Volkov.

He shoved his hand away from the car, spun around, and stalked to the back of the vehicle, the swish of the long grass beating against his long legs. The trunk door popped open and worry surfaced. My nerves went brittle as I wondered what he was retrieving within its depth.

A crossbow?

A cursed blade?

He slammed the trunk shut and the thunderous sound made me jolt. He walked toward me, and something was hanging over his arm—dark gray fabric with a silvery sheen to it. A touch of solace eased the tension running rampant through my body. At least he wasn't carrying a shovel.

Mr. Volkov thrust a long coat into my hands. His sharp voice was full of recrimination. "Put this on and fix yourself up as best as you can."

I didn't even know how I managed to do it. My hands were shaking so badly it took an age to slide my arms into the sleeves and to do up all the buttons. But somehow, a few minutes later, I was standing before Mr. Volkov with my tattered dress mostly hidden behind the long gray coat, and my hair dragged back and knotted, fixed into a low bun at the nape of my neck. Not smooth and polished, but it would do.

I swiped hurriedly at the tears clinging to the corner of my lashes before they could fall.

Mr. Volkov swiped an insolent glance down my figure and murmured thoughtfully to himself. "What should I have expected from someone like you? The apple certainly doesn't fall far from the tree." He snorted, his tone spiteful when he tacked on, "At least, thank gods, you aren't pregnant."

Blistering anger erupted, curling my fingers into fists and snapping my shoulders into a stiff line.

The bloodhound snarled.

What he inferred was my mother had an affair with a member of the upper ranks, and worse, got with me out of wedlock. I tilted my chin up with defiance. "I know I arrived earlier than anticipated, but other babies, within established families," I added to support my case, "have been born prematurely too. It's not uncommon." And my mother was devoted to my father. So much so, from all the stories my aunt had shared over the years of Asta's love for Jasper, not a bone in my body believed him. Fragmented images from my recently unearthed memory of my mother's erratic behavior spiraled through my head. It brought with it a mix of emotions with how she'd treated me, but clearly, she'd lost her mind when she'd lost the love of her life.

I didn't like the sly gleam in the Head Housekeeper's eyes. He simply ground out, "This way Miss Catt." His long, leggy stride brushed through the wild grasses as he began walking toward the gnarled treeline.

Dreadful foreboding washed through my limbs like freezing water. It felt like I was walking to the gallows as I followed behind.

He stopped at a gap between the trees. I peered ahead, my gaze skittering along the murky length of the path littered with broken twigs and skeletal leaves.

My mouth went as dry as parchment. Why had he led me here?

In my periphery, the twitch of Mr. Volkov's thin lips brought my gaze swinging back to him. Smugness shone blatantly in his deep brown eyes. "When I took over my role as Head Housekeeper, I had access to all the personal files of our staff. Yours is there too, with a few bits of information regarding your mother." He smoothed the flat of his hand down the lapels of his suit, before tugging the cuff of a sleeve to fix the lines of his shirt and jacket. "Asta and Ellena grew up at House Chantha."

I nodded. Yes, I knew that. The Chanthas' estate was on the other side of Ascendria. It was a smaller and newer House compared to the Deniuads'.

"And they both arrived at new estates and new Houses within a short time of one another. Your aunt requested a transfer to the Deniauds so she could remain close to her sister." He tsked. "Usually those sorts of requests are denied, but your mother was a widow with a newborn, who, as it was noted, wasn't doing well after the death of her husband." A furrow deepened in his brow as he intently studied my face. "In some small way, you were lucky that Asta died."

My mouth fell open.

What kind of thing was that to say to me?

His cruel, nasty words cut deep and the dark magic inside me bristled.

And then I blinked as I realized belatedly, his gaze was sliding over the shape of my face, tracing the jawline to my lips, along my nose and cheeks, to my eyes. "The older you grew the more you resembled Ellena," he murmured quietly.

I stamped a foot, crushing dewy grass beneath my heel. "Of course I do, she's my aunt!"

He smiled and with the flash of white teeth, reminded me of a shark. "Your aunt's personal file was curious. Her history too. I'm assuming you don't know that your aunt was an orphan and fostered by Asta's family."

It brought my anger to a grinding halt.

He was right, I didn't know that. But what should it matter anyway?

"Ellena was taken in by Asta's family and raised as one of their own." He leaned down closer, so close his stale breath wisped over my brow. "So you tell me, Tabitha Catt, why do you look so much like your aunt if you're not related by blood? Unless of course, you are."

Shock punched the air from my lungs.

It wobbled from my mouth. "What?"

My head completely emptied itself and all that remained was the image of my aunt's sweet face with her deep green eyes and dark blond hair. I did...I did look like Aunt Ellena. We even shared the same toothy smile set in a heart-shaped face.

I was there with Asta during the birth... I was the first person to hold you.

Same laugh.

Same body shape with its golden-hued complexion.

You couldn't keep me away.

She was always with my...with Asta, every chance she could get. Helping her get me ready for bed. Always reading another book to send me to sleep.

I lost Wyatt, but I gained so much more.

I had you... A little girl I'd always wanted for myself.

The words were more air than voice, and I swayed, rocking back and forth as the world spun around me. "Aunt Ellena's my mother?" I wasn't even sure I could wrap my head around the momentous weight behind it.

My mother. Not my aunt.

My mother.

The Head Housekeeper took a sidelong step, turning his attention to the tree arching over the path. He pinched a blood-colored leaf between his fingers, pulling the spindly branch taut. "Your impending birth was covered, like most illegitimate births are, with a hasty marriage. From all accounts, Asta and Jasper Catt were already in a committed relationship. So no one would be suspicious of them wanting to marry quickly before he left for South America with the Houses to rout the mutinous cartels. Only Jasper never returned, and rather tragically, you were born the day he died. It wasn't Ellena raising you, it was her foster sister, Asta, so that no one would know you were a bastard."

I flinched at the insult.

He carried on, his mouth curling with repugnance in his slender face. "Asta kept you hidden amongst us. A weed that should have been cut down at birth."

The skinny branch snapped back when he released the leaf, and he gestured to the trail. I turned, still in a daze, still reeling with this revelation, to stare at the pathway, not really taking in the fronds whiplashing back and forth with the wicked gusts of wind. I heard him say behind me, "More than a few Houses lost servants amongst Jurgana's carnage at the Servants' Dance, and your sudden transfer to a new House is easily explained. Follow that path to your new home. They've been informed of your arrival and are expecting you." His voice lowered in warning. "Don't bother trying to run. If I discover you never arrived at your new home, the finest hunters from all the Houses will be sent after you. And then..." he didn't need to finish what he'd begun to say, my mind had already filled it in for me.

My corpse would be buried in an unmarked grave.

It wasn't until I heard the low rumble of an engine that I realized he'd made his way back to the car. My hair slid over my face, tickling my nose and forehead when I turned to look over my shoulder. I watched the town car rattle and bump over the uneven ground, weaving through the gaps between trees until it and Mr. Volkov disappeared from sight.

And I was left alone.

I acted on instinct, on an order given to a servant. Without thought I pushed into motion, entering the eerie forest and plunging into the gloom. My bare feet scuffed through leaf litter and crunched across twigs. The branches heaving overhead reminded me of being beneath a roiling sea. I walked along the shadowy path, gliding forward as if my feet weren't connected to the ground. The bloodhound was alert and trepidacious. The sinister forest breathed around me with creaking and shuffling sounds of twisted nature, but I was numb to it all. I was numb to everything but the truth swirling around and around in my head.

Aunt Ellena was my mother.

How did I not see it? How did I not know?

Because it was easy to believe the lies cloaked with the truth. And surety hummed a deep note inside me. Deep down I knew the stories my aunt had told me about my mother, Asta, were of her.

On and on and on I walked as skeletal leaves scuttled between my ankles.

A voice cut through the murkiness and startled me. "Tabitha Catt?"

I almost jumped, and I plastered a hand over my mouth to stop the warbling shriek.

An older gentleman was waiting for me at the end of the path and beyond his frail figure I caught a glimpse of a stretch of neatly cut grass.

He shuffled forward with a hesitant smile on his chapped lips, and a question in his rheumy eyes, but he didn't ask it of me. His shoulders were hunched near his ears and he wore a fur-trimmed coat and leather gloves to ward away the biting nip of autumn.

I reached him quickly, my gaze darting behind him, only partly curious at where I'd ended up. I could be anywhere. Almost every estate was hidden amongst a forest, and I was given no clue as to where I'd been transferred to.

"I was charged with bringing you in and keeping this..." he clicked his tongue, frowning while thinking as to how to word my situation delicately, this perceived accusation that I was the mistress of Romain Deniaud. "...this matter contained and quiet. We'll take one of the less used servants' entrances. We need to be quick about it while the gardeners are still getting ready for work for the day."

I nodded, my fingers anxiously kneading the thick material of the long coat.

Humiliation seared my cheeks at the way his eyes smiled kindly when he added, "We'll get you into new clothes and settled into your room. I'm afraid you won't be holding the same position as you did at the Deniauds'. As yet, I'm not sure what your post will be with us."

Probably lowly. Perhaps even a scullery maid if Volkov had his way.

I followed close behind the older man when he stepped out of the forest and onto a short lawn. A flock of birds darted from the forest, flying high, and were silhouetted against dense gray clouds. The sky, like a moor, was as bleak as my heart.

An icy shudder slowly worked its way down my spine when I gazed upon my new home.

Even in this dull light, the formidable residence seemed to cast a dark shadow over everything, and I felt tiny and insignificant in its presence. The forest was so close to the building that its scraggly branches scratched against its walls and the guttering of its pitched roofline.

The elderly servant hurried toward a doorway, his footsteps quickened with his wish for us to be inside as fast as possible. My filthy toes squidged through the grass and met eroded stone steps before crossing a pitted porch to the narrow entrance of this new House I'd serve.

The paint was chipped and flaking off the door, and its rusty hinges squeaked as the older servant held it open for me, gesturing with a flick of his knobbled fingers for me to enter ahead of him.

I held the sequinned clutch to my chest like it was a shield that would protect me. The only good thing that had come out of the nightmare I found myself in was the vial of wyrmblood Varen had given me.

And with it, I'd save my aunt...no, not my aunt.

I'd save my mother.

As I began to take a step forward, warmth sparkled in the old man's watery eyes. "Welcome back home, Tabitha."

I startled at the choice of words. My wide-eyed gaze snapped upward to the pocked and weathered stone walls, tracing the leering angles, and the leathery shape of otherworldly creatures carved beneath the gables. A name began to twitch on my tongue, cumbersome and unwieldy, foreign too.

But before it fully formed, I was nudged inside and the door slammed shut behind me. Daylight disappeared like a candle being pinched at the wick and shadows instantly wreathed my figure. I stepped further inside my new home, my old home, I supposed was more correct to say.

The Szarvases'.

~ THE END~

***

He had hunted me, captured me, and locked me in a tower.

Nelle's 20th birthday is soon approaching — The Witches Ball not long after. Caged like a bird, her dark powers bound, Nelle's first threat looms — the Crowthers' desperate need for a Goods Appraisal. Without the Butcher's approval, the family will never gain the rare invitation to the Ball. If they want to pique the Witches' interest with the curious offering they possess, they must enter the sinister and macabre Emporium.

While Nelle forms a plan to escape the Crowthers' Keep, Sirro has tasked Graysen to find an elusive lesser creature who lurks within the honeycombed catacombs beneath Ascendria. As Graysen searches, memories long buried resurface, revealing a crucial clue. Another beast knew where Tabitha Catt had been the fateful day she'd been abducted. And who she spoke with.

There's only one person Graysen can turn to for help. 

She's a skilled monster hunter. 

Someone he adores. 

And his worst roomie nightmare.

***

While in RISING, Tabitha discovers something peculiar that may assist Nelle in her plan to escape the Keep. Decades later, her son unearths the secret life Tabitha continued to keep hidden well after her marriage to Varen.

Continuing the epic saga 'Of Crows and Thorns' that follows the dire predicament of Tabitha and Nelle, we've gathered the clues from RISING and now we can apply them to CAGED and meet the crossover characters who have a part to play. Also, please be aware there are scenes in CAGED that have more to do with Tabitha and Varen and their next installment to come later. Of course, like the prior books, there are more clues scattered about as to the 'how' of Nelle's wyrm.

***

The 'Of Crows and Thorns' saga is written and released in a rather unconventional manner to minimize spoilers. Though Tabitha's storyline occurs before Nelle's, hers isn't a true prequel. Miss Catt is a keeper of many secrets. And some of those big, juicy secrets can only be revealed later on in the series.