I wouldn’t consider her a “smiler.”
“W-what?” I blink and then shake my head, wondering if this is some strange hallucination. Did that barbecue have pot brownies? “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to help you prepare,” Amanda answers, moving to lean against the edge of the desk.
She folds her arms over her chest.
“Prepare?” A fierce wave of anger washes over me, capsizing coherent thought. “You’re a part of this kidnapping scheme, aren’t you? What the fuck do you guys want from me?”
Her eyes widen in shock, and she straightens, her arms falling back to her sides. “Izzy, no. You got it all wrong. You’re not a prisoner here. You’re a guest.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “So I can leave at any time?”
I flick my gaze towards the closed door. Is it locked again? Do I dare try and find out? Will she stop me?
Amanda nibbles on her lower lip as she seems to consider her words. “All new witches and warlocks are required to meet with the coven and?—”
“I’m not a witch,” I interrupt, balling my hands into fists. “Didn’t you say that yourself? I don’t have any magic or whatever. I can’t wiggle my fingers, say ‘bippity boppity boo,’ and turn a pumpkin into a carriage.”
“Your mother was a very powerful witch,” Amanda says evenly, her eyes turning glazed.
I wonder if she’s thinking about my mother. Did she know her well? The thought causes a lump to manifest in my throat and a strange, prickly heat to invade my body.
“It stands to reason that you have magic as well…even if you don’t know how to use it.”
“I don’t—” But my protest is interrupted by Amanda stalking towards me, fury etched across her face. A cold wind tiptoes up my neck as I suck in a contradictory scorching breath.
She lowers her voice to a whisper, each word curt and concise. “Listen to me, Isabella. I am doing what I can to protect you, but you need to help me out here. Meet with the Trinity, listen to what they have to say, and then you’ll be allowed to leave.”
She flicks her gaze over my shoulder, towards the closed door. “If you put up a fight, they won’t hesitate to hurt you. Do you understand that?”
I blink at her in alarm. What I thought before was fury I now realize is…desperation.
Fear, even.
“Are the witches really that bad?” I ask, keeping my voice soft in an attempt to dull the sharp edge of my anger.
Something in Amanda’s expression shifts, and she turns away from me with a pained sigh. “Just…please, Izzy. Please. Let me help you.”
I can’t remember the last time I ever heard Amanda Highland say “please” to me.
Maybe never.
“First, tell me this—is Grayson okay?” I demand.
Amanda nods stiffly. “The vampire is fine. Probably still sleeping soundly in the woods right about now.”
Relief loosens some of the knotted muscles in my shoulders. Grayson’s okay. He’s alive.
I want to ask about my other mates, but I know Amanda won’t have the answers. Besides, the last thing I want to do is show her my hand. If the witches don’t know about my attachment to the shifters, then I intend to keep it that way. And if they do…
Well…
I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask, straightening my spine.
Relief splays across Amanda’s face, and she releases another breath. “The Trinity will ask you questions. Answer the best you can. Do not lie. The Crone will be able to tell if you do.”
