Twobble nodded vigorously and continued, “I know exactly who he is.”
My gaze dropped to the goblin, who looked absurdly pleased with himself.
“Twobble,” I said slowly. “Who is it?”
He puffed out his chest.
“That’s Keegan’s dad.”
The clearing seemed to tilt as Twobble pointed again. “His name is Rendel.”
For a moment, I forgot how breathing worked.
The color drained straight out of my face.
I turned slowly toward the man, toward Rendel.
“You were supposed to be…” My voice faltered. “Gone.”
The man—Rendel—watched me quietly.
Then he nodded once.
“That’s the easier version of the story.”
The words landed like stones.
“The Silver Wolf,” he continued calmly, “always liked to keep control over the narrative.”
My stomach twisted hard enough that I had to steady myself.
Keegan’s mother.
The Silver Wolf.
The one person in Stonewick who rarely let anything slip beyond her watchful gaze.
A tidal wave of thoughts slammed through me all at once.
Keegan believed his father was dead.
Everyone did.
I swallowed.
“What would Keegan think,” I whispered before I could stop myself, “if he knew I was out here talking to the father who abandoned him?”
Twobble slowly lowered his pointing finger.
“Right,” he said quietly. “That’s… complicated.”
Skonk leaned toward Twobble. “Is now a bad time to mention I ate the emergency pastry?”
Twobble waved him off while my eyes stayed fixed on Rendel.
I shook my head slowly.
“No.”
