My father.
Standing in my chambers while we planned how to walk into danger.
The ache that hit me was quick and sharp, and I hated that there had never been time to sit with it.
“You’re not late,” I said softly. “We’re just… catastrophically early.”
Twobble stopped chewing. “That’s a good phrase. I’m stealing it.”
“You steal everything,” Stella said.
“Not everything,” Skonk argued, reaching into the crouton bag. “Some things are borrowed with no intention of returning. Still counts as borrowing.”
“That’s theft,” Bella pointed out.
Skonk shrugged. “Sounds less rude when I say it.”
My dad’s gaze flicked to the bags in their laps. “Are those croutons?”
“Yes,” Twobble said defensively. Planning food. It’s got crunch while being coated with butter that doesn’t rub off.”
“Planning food?” I repeated.
“You don’t want greasy fingers during strategy,” Skonk explained. “Croutons are practical. Crunchy. Portable. Emotionally sturdy.”
Stella pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I have lived far too long to be surprised, and yet here I am.”
Nova stopped pacing and turned toward my father. “Frank, did you sense anything near the outer edge?”
He nodded, and the humor drained from the room like someone had pulled a plug.
“The woods are too quiet, especially the Wilds.” His voice was low and rough, still new in its human form, still familiar in all the ways that mattered. “But the Wilds aren’t empty. They’re filled with shifters and orcs alike. This is just eerily quiet. There’s a difference.”
Bella’s expression sharpened. “A hunting quiet.”
He nodded once. “Something is waiting for us to make a move.”
“Then we don’t make the move she expects,” Caleb said, folding his arms across his chest.
I glanced at him. “You sound like you already have something in mind.”
“I have several things in mind,” he replied. “Most of them involve not walking straight through her front door.”
Twobble raised one crouton. “I second that. Doors are traps with hinges and locks.”
“The Priestess will expect Wards to be tested at the perimeter,” Nova said, resuming her pacing, though slower now. “She will expect Maeve to come emotionally. Recklessly. She will expect a mother who is frightened for her daughter and desperate for her own mother.”
“Well,” I muttered, “unfortunately, she’s not completely wrong.”
Stella’s gaze softened. “Fear doesn’t make you reckless, darling. Acting without tea does.”
“I’m not sure that’s the official distinction.”
“It should be.”
Ardetia had been quiet near the fireplace. Her gaze fixed on a point in the air no one else could see. She pulled her fingers into the sleeves of her pale gown as she thought. When she finally spoke, we listened.
“The Priestess’ compound isn’t merely guarded. It’s layered. Fae sight can catch the seams and layers.”
