“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Zoodle.” I leaned closer and kissed his cheek.
“Hard to keep a good dhampir down.” He gave a shrug that didn’t quite hide how pleased he was by my attention.
Next to Koa, Kaori hid a smile behind her napkin. Papa, at the head of the table, observed us with quiet interest, like an anthropologist studying a newly discovered culture.
Beneath the table, I felt a cold nose nudge my knee. Brummy had positioned himself strategically between Kaori and me, his intelligent gaze moving between us as if calculating his odds of receiving treats from each of us.
A wise move on his part, it turned out.
All it took was him sitting with perfect posture and making his blue eyes wide and imploring. Kaori glanced down, then back at the table, feigning innocence even as her hand disappeared beneath the tablecloth. A moment later, Brummy’s tail thumped appreciatively against the floor.
“You shouldn’t encourage begging,” Lucian said, but there was more resignation than rebuke in his tone.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kaori replied serenely even as another piece of bacon vanished from her plate.
“Don’t bother.” Koa waved one hand. “Seri does the same thing. We’ve all given up trying to enforce table manners around here.”
“He’s still recovering,” I defended, reaching down to scratch Brumous behind the ears. “He deserves treats.”
The wolf’s eyes closed in bliss, leaning into my touch while gazing soulfully at Kaori, clearly recognizing a soft touch when he found one.
“Yeah, the sweet little murder puppy whose doubled in size in a week,” Zane said around a mouthful of eggs.
“He was underweight to begin with!”
The conversation flowed around us as Mrs. Wentzel brought out more platters of food. Zane ate with the focused intensity ofsomeone making up for lost time, downing three helpings of everything. Between bites, he shifted his attention to me.
“So what’s the play with Amabel? Interrogation at dawn? Midnight beheading? Ooh, we could do one of those walk-of-shame things through the apple orchard!”
The question sobered the mood instantly. I took a sip of my orange juice, buying time to organize my thoughts.
“I don’t want to see her or question her, and I certainly don’t want to be part of whatever happens afterward.”
Zane and Koa exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them.
“You sure, beloved?” Koa asked. “You don’t want to ask her anything? Say a final word?”
“No. I want nothing to do with her.”
There was a difference between the twins, at least inmymind. Eluned had been born unstable, her already fragile grip on reality further distorted by Dark forces and Arabesque’s trauma-laced upbringing. Everything about her had been manipulated and weaponized by her own mother.
Amabel was different. Cold. Calculating. Every move she made was deliberate, every attack precisely planned. Her assault on Casimir hadn’t been a crime of passion or insanity, but a carefully orchestrated ambush. There was a clinical cruelty to her that made her more like Arabesque than Eluned could ever have been.
“She made her choices.” I pushed a piece of bacon around my plate. “As hard as it is to admit, some people are lost causes, and Amabel Harrow is one of them.”
“You’re right,” Zane agreed with a smirk. “Eluned was a mess. Nothing was firing right in her brain. Amabel’s different. When I peeked into her mind—”
“When you what?!” I screeched. “Tell me you didn’t use your telepathy, Zoodle!”
He at least had the grace to look sheepish.
“It was just for a second, sweetheart—”
“Youidiot!” I stood up and whacked him on the shoulder. “After two deep telepathic dives in two days, both layered with swan song? Are youtryingto kill yourself?!”
“It was barely a glimpse, bunny!” He rubbed his shoulder and pouted up at me.
“No more telepathy until I officially declare you’re recovered. Your brain needs a break.”
