“You are so full of shit.” Cassia threw the pillow back. “Admit you like him.”
“I don’t?—”
“You dream about him. You told Avine.”
“In confidence! As best friends do!”
“She told Theo, who told Beck, who told me.” Cassia shrugged. “Pack communication. Nothing stays secret.”
Junie buried her face in her hands. “I hate all of you.”
“You love us. And you’re falling for the uptight lion. Both things can be true.”
The worst part was that Cassia wasn’t wrong.
Evenings:The library.
The Siren’s Rest had a small but well-stocked collection of magical texts, curated over decades by previous owners and expanded by Avine’s surprisingly eclectic tastes. Junie and Leo had claimed a corner table as their workspace, spreading papers, notebooks, and the occasional ancient tome across its surface.
They researched sabotage methods. Ley line manipulation. Historical cases of magical infrastructure attacks. Anything that might help them understand what Victor was trying to accomplish and how to stop him.
And if they sat closer than strictly necessary… if their shoulders brushed when reaching for the same book… if Junie sometimes caught Leo watching her with an expression that made her stomach flutter…
Well. Neither of them mentioned it.
Day five. Late evening. The inn had gone quiet hours ago, but Junie couldn’t sleep. She kept seeing the ceiling beam in her mind, kept feeling the rush of air as it fell. Kept thinking about how close she’d come to becoming a cautionary tale.
But if she was being honest—and she tried very hard not to be, especially with herself—the near-death experience wasn’t what kept her awake.
It was the sounds from the room next door. Leo pacing. Leo’s voice, low and tense, on calls that went past midnight. The creak of his bed when he finally gave up on sleep, followed by the soft pad of footsteps heading toward the library.
She’d started listening for those footsteps. Started timing her own restless wandering to coincide with his.
She didn’t want to examine what that meant.
The library was empty when she arrived, or so she thought.
Leo sat in their usual corner, a single lamp casting golden light across his features. He’d abandoned his jacket somewhere, rolled his sleeves to the elbows, loosened his collar. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been running his fingers through it.
He looked almost human. Almost approachable.
Junie hovered in the doorway, suddenly uncertain. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He gestured at the papers spread before him. “Thought I might as well be productive.”
“Same.” She crossed to their table, curling into the chair across from him. Glimmer slithered down to coil on the surface near the lamp. “What are you working on?”
“Corporate records. Victor’s shell companies have shell companies. It’s like trying to untangle a knot made of lies.”
“Sounds frustrating.”
“It’s infuriating.” He leaned back, rubbing his eyes in a gesture of exhaustion she’d never seen from him. “He’s good at this. Hiding. Making himself invisible. I taught him some of it, back when I thought he was worth mentoring.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t it?” Leo’s laugh was hollow. “I hired him. Promoted him. Trusted him with access to things he used to hurt people.”
“And then you fired him when you found out. You stopped him.” Junie leaned forward. “Leo. You can’t hold yourselfresponsible for every bad choice someone else makes. That’s not how guilt works.”
