Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)

by Nora Roberts

“Erosion happens gradually.” Winter rubbed Sonya’s shoulders. “A rock’s strong, but it doesn’t notice how the water’s wearing it away.”

“The mistake wasn’t in loving someone. He wasn’t faithful, and you ended it. You know what I haven’t heard from you? What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I enough? What did he see in her he didn’t in me?” “I—Mom—” “You know why I haven’t heard that? Because you’re too smart to fall in that ditch. You know this isn’t about you. It’s about him. His character. You believed in him. He proved you wrong. That’s all there is to it. So clean sweep, close the book, lock the door. Change the locks,” she amended, “then lock the door.”

They sat on the floor, each with a pile of sketchbooks. As she paged through, Sonya understood the full meaning of poignant. It hurt, and it warmed, it brushed the dust off old sorrows even as it lifted new joy.

Again and again, over and over, year by year, and bride by bride. Find the seven rings. Break the curse.

I felt them the minute I walked in. At least one of my wows was for them.”

“With my blade I took the first, then by my blood this house was cursed. One by one they wed, they die, because they seek to take what’s mine. And with their rings of gold, my spell will hold and hold.”

“That pissed her off, and I’m fine with it.” Maybe she couldn’t quite catch her breath, maybe the chill over her skin seemed to dig straight into her bones, but she would be fine with it.

“Mom told me what she had with Dad was magic.” Cleo glanced back. “And you want that?” “Yeah. Don’t you?” “Damn right I do. I think everybody in the world wants that, and the lucky make it. Because you don’t find magic, Son, you make it.” “You make it. I like that idea.”