Declan leans forward. “So what do you want to do?”
“I want information. Where Victor sent her. Where she’s been. Whether she’s even still alive, and I want it before Julian consolidates power and the window closes.”
“The family is going to be distracted right now. Focused on internal transitions, securing Julian’s position.”
“Which means their security is weaker than it’s been in years.”
Declan nods slowly. “I’ll start making calls. See who we can approach quietly.”
“Mid-level people. The ones who know things but aren’t important enough to be untouchable. Offer money, protection, whatever it takes.”
“What if we don’t find anything?”
“Then we go higher up the chain. But we start at the bottom and work our way up.”
“This could get messy if Julian finds out we’re poking around during his uncle’s funeral.”
“Then make sure he doesn’t find out until it’s too late.”
Declan stands. “I’ll have something by tomorrow.”
He leaves, and I’m alone at the bar with the first real hope I’ve felt in years.
Victor Vance is dead.
14
AURELIA
Finn is tryingto convince his brother that dragons are real.
“They are, Liam! I saw one in my dream!”
“Dreams aren’t real,” Liam says, not looking up from the tower he’s building with blocks. “Miss Mary said so.”
“Miss Mary doesn’t know everything.”
“She knows more than you.”
I’m sitting on the floor watching them argue, my back against the couch, a cup of tea going cold in my hands. The twins turned five a few months ago, and they’re tall for their age, all long limbs and endless energy. Finn’s hair curls at the ends like Cassian’s does when it gets too long. Liam has the same intensity in his green eyes when he concentrates.
Every day, they look more like their father. Every day, it gets harder to look at them without thinking about the man who doesn’t know they exist.
“Mam, tell him dragons are real,” Finn demands, abandoning his argument with Liam to appeal to a higher authority.
“I think some things are real even if we can’t see them,” I say carefully.
“See? I told you!”
Liam gives me a look that suggests he knows I’m humoring his brother. He’s the more skeptical twin, the one who questions everything and accepts nothing at face value. He’s going to be dangerous when he’s older.
The door opens, and Helena walks in. I can tell immediately that something is wrong. Her face is too carefully neutral, her movements too precise.
“Boys, why don’t you take your blocks upstairs?” she says. “I need to speak with your mam.”
“But we’re playing,” Finn protests.
“Now, please.”
