Page 88 of Nikolay

“No, because I have instincts, and they have kept me alive this long.”

“Reassuring.”

“It should be. My instincts are usually expensive.”

Despite the line, her expression did not soften.

I said, “Do you think they are looking for a ritual involving interspecies bonds?”

That was as close as I came to saying Maddie. It felt too close already.

Amelia did not answer immediately. She considered, which for her counted as caution of the highest order.

“I think,” she said at last, “that if a pack built around bloodline ideology discovered a complication involving mating, inheritance, or species contamination—as they would call it—they might seek solutions very quietly before the wider world got wind of the problem.”

My vision narrowed fractionally.

Problem.

She had not meant Maddie with the word. Perhaps she had meant some hypothetical line of inquiry. Perhaps she had meant only what Ironwood might call such a thing. It did not matter. The shape of it struck, anyway.

Bohdan saw something in my face then, because his voice came lower when he said, “Nikolay.”

I looked at him.

“We do not know that this touches her,” he said.

No, we did not.

But ignorance had ceased feeling like relief.

Amelia leaned forward, forearms on her knees now, token trapped in her fist. “Listen carefully. I am not saying they have targeted Maddie. I am saying Ironwood is moving pieces I cannot yet map, and one of those pieces may be your little Texas wolf because Sage Lynch has shown more interest in her than I enjoy.”

There it was, plain as she ever made anything.

I sat with it in silence a moment. Then I asked the only useful question left.

“What do you need?”

A flash of approval crossed her face. “Time. Access. And no one doing anything theatrical before I know more.”

Bohdan snorted softly. “So, not a family show of strength, then.”

“Try to astonish me.”

She rose before either of us could say more, all restless utility again. The satchel went over her shoulder. The token resumed its turn between her fingers.

“I’ll keep digging,” she said. “If Ironwood has paid for witchcraft, I want to know what shape they purchased.”

At the door she paused and looked back at me. For once her rapid-fire manner gentled by a shade.

“Do not do anything stupid tonight, prince.”

I might have found the instruction insulting in another mood.

“Your faith wounds me,” I said.

“It should motivate you.”