“I saved her from the reavers this morning. And begged her to come back here,” I say.
Max nods. “He’s telling the truth,” but Nick doesn’t blink.
“I don’t trust someone without a face. Or a name.”
I recognize the challenge in his piercing gaze. He expects me to squirm, to over-justify myself, and work harder for his trust, but I’m not afraid of him. And I’m not going anywhere.
“I’ve seen him,” Max says quickly. “In the mirrors at the bridal shop. He’s Fae, and judging by his magic, a very powerful one.”
“You mean hewasFae. Before he died.”
A deep shade of red brands Max’s cheeks. “Right.”
“I’m not a danger to Max, so there’s no need to be rude,” I chime in.
Nick exhales through his teeth. “Fae or not, I don’t think we should trust him. Not until we know who he is. And what he truly wants.”
Max clicks her tongue. “Typical Nick.” She returns to the kitchen, shaking her head as if her brother is the biggest ass onthe planet—and I’m a close second. “Speaking of ghosts, I spoke with the phantom who sent his monsters after Kerri, and as it turns out, he’s not a ghost at all. We should focus on that. Tea?”
Nick gives her a reluctant nod. “Sure.”
“It’s Armand.” Max keeps her back turned to us as she pours Nick and herself a cup of steaming tea. “Mabel’s first husband. He’s back, even though everyone thought he died at the end of the war. The faceless men—the reavers—answer to him. They’re animated bodies without souls.”
Nick crosses to the counter to grab his teacup. “Mabel always believed Armand might still be alive. She buried him deep, but she feared it wasn’t enough.”
Max spins to face him with her fingers clenched around the sugar tongs. “Why didn’t she breathe a word of this to me before the attack?”
“Well, that’s Mabs. Always playing a game we don’t know the rules of.” Nick blows on the steam curling from his cup and leans against the counter. “Where is she now?”
“She came home to warn me, then flew off to gods know where. She told me to wait for her here.”
Nick takes a slow sip, unfazed. “I know people in Faerie who can help.”
Max squints. “How?”
His eyes dance. “The refugees have been coming by the dozen lately. The upheaval in the realm’s magic and the death of the previous Red Queen have allowed my associates to push deeper into the Red Forest and free more of our people than ever before. But it’s not enough to flee and hide. Witches want to go home, Max. They want to fight for their freedom. End the Reds’ tyranny. And the ongoing rebellion that tides over the Fae continent might give us enough momentum to do just that.”
Max’s brows knit together. “You want to team up with the Fae revolutionaries who destroyed the Eternal Chalice?”
Nick shrugs as if her scolding tone isn’t warranted. “Why not? We share the same enemy.”
Max slaps his arm. “Nick! What did you do?”
He wets his lips, looking everywhere but at her. “That golden spindle the Mist King is searching for… I know what it is. And what it does.” Nick’s hand curls in a fist over his lap before he shoots a bone-chilling glare my way. “I want Casper out of here first. Then, I’ll tell you.”
“I’m no cartoon ghost,” I shoot back. “And I suggest you change your tone.”
His menacing stare turns amused for a split second. “Is that so?”
He wants to draw battle lines between us. The urge to stand my ground, to show teeth and remind him he doesn’t get to command me, rises in my blood. This house is as much mine as it is his, and I won’t be left out of his plans, not if they involve Max.
Max exhales, shaking her head. “E…can you give us a minute?”
My instincts scream for me to stay, to keep Nick from warning her against me, against whatever fragile, impossible thing is growing between us.
I know exactly how I must look to him. An intruder.
I’m an invisible stranger haunting his sister, lurking around his childhood home. Yeah, I wouldn’t trust myself either if I were in his shoes.
