“Get dressed,” he ordered. “We are leaving today.” He pulled our suitcases from the closet and threw them onto our bed.
“What is the rush, Roger?” I asked, following him.
Frustration filled me. I had been longing to feel my Winter magic, and he was taking away any chance of it happening. When we were back in Starten, it would be more difficult.
Roger ignored my questions and began stuffing clothes into his suitcase frantically. “Your mother is the problem. She has made plans to sell the cannery.”
“Stop,” I demanded, taking a shirt out of his hands. “How do you know this? She would never sell it.”
Roger reached into his pocket and threw a crumpled piece of paper onto the bed. I picked it up and read it. My mother’s note made no sense. She babbled on about how the Drygen curse struck ag
