“Leave?” Gwyn said, her voice high-pitched in surprise. “Why would you want to leave? Caerwyn is the safest place for witches; the human territories are crawling with shifters.”
Oh, sweetheart, if only you knew.
“I’m sure I will be safe. I haven’t heard of a random shifter attack in years.”
Wren laughed. Dammit. Wren wasjustgrowing on him. “You cannot seriously be that naïve. Shifters are animals; they’re dangerous. My entire career is eliminating them so you can have that type of opinion, Avery.” Her voice grew heated. “In London, there have been five witches killed this week by shifters.”
His crew had been busy since he was gone; good for them.
Avery stiffened at the words.
Felix jumped in before she spiraled.“We only kill them if they have breached the policies in the treaty.”
Avery’s mother held up her wine glass, peering into the red liquid like a crystal ball as the firelight reflected off it. “The world is dangerous, Avery,” she said, eyes returning to her least favorite daughter. “Which is why the council is working on something, something that will protect more witches against the shifters.”
Eleri’s gaze swept over Felix.
She fucking knew.She knew he was a shifter.
“What kind of protection?” Gwyn asked.
Eleri’s smile was as wicked as a witch. “All in good time, darling. The council will make an announcement when we are ready,” she said simply.
She had to know something about the missing shifters. He would bet his left nut on it.
Eleri stabbed her fork into the chicken with far too much force. “They have run rampant for far too long; someone needs to put them in their place.” She paused. “Especially after what they did to your father.”
Both sisters froze, forks halfway to their mouths.
Wren’s eyes went wide. “Mother!”
“Are you saying a shifter killed our father?” Avery’s voice wobbled.
Fuck.
Twenty-Two
Avery
A shifter killed him.
Gwyn’s face drained of color. “What?”
Avery’s chest constricted, the panic coming back in full force. The room blurred in and out as memories crashed over her, the grief lashing her with a fresh wound.
Her mother rested her glass on the table. She told her it had been a heart attack. That he died in his sleep peacefully. Instead, he died frightened,in pain,fucking alone, bleeding out somewhere.
“Avery.” Wren reached for her.
She jerked back from the table, chair legs scraping against the wood. She stood, head dizzy. “You knew. You both knew, and you kept it from me.”
“You were young.”
“Bullshit, I was older than Gwyn was.” Avery turned toward her sister. For once, Gwyn was silent, looking down at her plate.
Her mother clucked her tongue, as if she was being defiant, as if she was beingirrationallike a child throwing a tantrum.
“Sit down, we’re not finished.”
