“That’s the gist,” Chase agreed cheerfully.
“Hybrids are still the ones killing people,” Arthur said, “the Volnoye are just a risk. Hybrids are the threat.”
The words were reasonable. Sensible. The kind of thing Edith would have grudgingly approved of.
None of it completely eased the knot under Dani’s ribs.
Her sisters’ voices from Thistlehouse threaded through the back of her skull.
They’ll use us as long as we’re useful. Then they’ll fall back on their hate. Same as ever.
She shook herself. Focused on Aurelia licking sauce off her fork, on Chase theatrically recounting Leonid’s insult about “measuring teeth,” on Arthur’s hand wrapped around his mug, knuckles scarred. Mundane, domestic details that felt like a fragile spell in themselves.
When the plates were empty, and Aurelia was starting to yawn between questions, Dani nudged her shoulder.
“Bed,” she said.
Aurelia made a noise of protest. Then she caught sight of Arthur’s face, the strain around his eyes, the way he was starting to hold himself just a touch too rigid, and thought better of it.
“Fine,” she said, sliding off her chair. She kissed Dani’s cheek, then, after a tiny hesitation, stepped to Arthur. “Night.”
He cleared his throat, as if the word was lodged there. “Night, Auri.”
He rested a hand briefly on the top of her head, fingers careful around her braid. Dani felt the small, shy happiness that bloomed in Aurelia at the touch, and for a second, hope punched so hard she nearly doubled over.
Chase gathered the plates before she could drown in them. “I’ll do dishes,” he announced, “because I’m the responsible one.”
“Terrifying thought,” Dani said.
“Come on, kid,” Chase said to Aurelia, “You can dry while I tell you about the time Arthur got treed by an elk.”
“I did not get treed,” Arthur growled.
“The elk disagrees,” Chase called over his shoulder as he and Aurelia disappeared into the kitchen.
Silence crept back in.
Dani could have left it. Could have let him stumble upstairs, collapse onto his too-soft bed, and pretend that what had happened the night before under the stars could float above everything else, untouched.
But Edith’s words sat like a weight in her chest.
Let him earn trust instead of handing it over like a free sample.
She stood, heart thudding, and said, “Come with me?”
Arthur’s brows tugged together, wary, “Where?”
“Not far,” she said, “just…somewhere without an audience.”
Something flickered in his expression, an echo of last night, when those words would have meant hands and mouths and the excuse of the dark.
Now they meant something much more dangerous.
He pushed to his feet, “All right.”
They stepped into the hall. The house felt different out here; the sounds of Chase and Aurelia arguing about dishwashing floated from the kitchen, but the corridor itself was dim, shadowed. More honest.
She stopped halfway between the front door and the stairs, turned to face him.
