“He didn’t mean anything by it, Killan.” Harlee grabs Roan’s arm, keeping my youngest brother from leaping off their bed and getting into a full-blown fistfight with me. Which I absolutely would have won, no regrets.
“The last few months have been tough for everyone,” she continues, keeping her voice soothing. “So much has changed in a short amount of time. It’s no wonder you and Lydia have been arguing a lot. You were forced together without any choice in the matter.”
So were she and Roan.
So were Briar and Sorin.
“Did Lydia say anything to you?” I ask Harlee her own question. “About leaving?”
“Er, no more than usual. Yesterday she was talking a bit about her mum and some guy called Lucas. And she was worried about the Freighter, but she wasn’t planning to sneak on board or anything. She knew you were worried about Atakis.” She gives Roan a pointed look. “There was one other thing.”
“What?”
She does not answer, just keeps staring at Roan.
He stares back at her. Then his eyes widen fractionally. “Akh…yes…”
Whatever silent conversation they are having, I do not have time for. I storm toward the door.
“There is something…” Roan calls, and I can hear the reluctance in his voice from across the room.
“What?” I demand.
“Something I must tell you about…your missing furniture.” He scratches the scales across his chest, uncharacteristicallyrefusing to meet my gaze, which is the only reason I do not abandon this conversation entirely.
“My furniture?” I repeat.
“All the furniture John Smith had removed from your house to force you and Lydia together.”
“I know what furniture you mean.” I clench my hands into fists to keep from hitting something—presumably Roan. But the walls of his cottage are equally at risk and considerably closer to hand.
“It was me?—”
“It was Roan who found it,” Harlee interrupts. “When we were searching for Chloe this afternoon. It’s in one of the caves near your house. Mr. Smith must have hidden it there right before filming started.”
I glance between them.
“We were going to tell you in the morning.” Harlee shows her teeth in a Human smile, possibly trying to be reassuring. In my mood, the sight of her teeth is nothing but aggressive, and I growl low in my throat.
There is something they are not telling me.
I point at my youngest brother. “You hid it.”
“No.” His denial is immediate.
“John Smith told you to.”
“No, he did not?—”
“You have known where it is this entire time.”
“No—"
“But you were too scared to confess.”
“Not scared! I—He…” His spluttering is as good as a confusion.
“Fek this.” I turn to leave.
