“That’s because you still think in mortal increments like months, years, and decades. One life folding into the next with grief and worry in between.”
“And joy and hope…” I eyed her.
“For mortals,” she said.
“Which I am.”
Her smile deepened. “Are you?”
I didn’t care for the question or the way it poked at me like a splinter. It was the kind of question Nova would have uttered over tea, and then I’d have spent the next four days pretending not to think about it while thinking about absolutely nothing else.
“I’m mortal enough,” I said.
“Such a limiting answer.” She leaned back in her chair and studied me with a patience I didn’t believe for a second. “The stone does not grant immortality in the way myths would have the simple-minded believe. They sustain what magic already recognizes. They give time to those with enough power to hold it.”
“Or enough arrogance to steal it.”
Her fingers stilled on the arm of the chair.
There it was.
A crack.
It wasn’t big, but it was enough. She still wanted that stone with all her heart.
“You have always had a sharp tongue,” she said softly.
“You don’t know me well enough to sayalways.”
“I know enough.” Her eyes traveled over me slowly, and I hated the feeling that she was assessing more than my expression.
“You know very little.”
“I know you were discarded by a man who never deserved you. I know you walked into Stonewick wounded and angry, pretending independence felt the same as freedom. I knowyou clung to ordinary things because ordinary things made the magic feel less terrifying.”
My breath caught before I could stop it, and she smiled faintly.
“And I know the people surrounding you have made you feel safe enough to believe safety and power can exist in the same hand.”
I swallowed and tried not to let my pulse show in my throat. “They can.”
“They can for a little while,” she said, almost gently. “Until one becomes more necessary than the other.”
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s not how Stonewick works.”
“Stonewick works because it has been protected by sacrifice and secrets. You of all people should understand that by now.” She rested her elbow on the chair and tipped her chin into her palm. “Your grandmother gave herself to the Academy. Your father lost his human life for years. Your wolf carried a curse in his bones because others thought fleeing was easier than fighting. Even your daughter has been touched by the edges of our world, whether you admit it or not.”
“That wasn’t because of Stonewick. That was because of you and your pet Gideon.” Heat flashed through me at the mention of Celeste.
I folded my hands in my lap to keep from reaching for the note in my pocket. “Don’t mistake love for weakness.”
“I never do,” she said. “Love is one of the most useful levers in existence.”
My stomach turned. That was why there would never be a truce between us.
She didn’t see people.
She only saw openings and pressure points.
