Page 23 of Dark Night of the Soul

Should have stayed put.

And imagining telling Kincade to talk to Killian was laughable. Like he’d ever listen to the Fae king about anything strategic.

Though, now that I thought about it, they were likely close to the same age.

Which was hilarious.

At least the wards around the manor were still intact.

As far as I could tell.

Back inside the manor, I paused in the foyer and listened. There was the normal hum of activity. Voices floating from upstairs. My mother and Grace. And then in the kitchen, a clank of dishes. Piers was off doing whatever it was he did when he wasn’t needed. Kincade was nowhere to be found. Typical.

And Ophelia? Where was she?

She’d looked like she had something on her mind during breakfast.

I charged up the stairs, but her room was vacant. Still messy, though. Girl could use a maid. Perhaps it was her yoga time. I interrupted her yesterday. I’d go for a repeat today.

Through the kitchen—there was something simmering in a pot on the stove that smelled like heaven—and out the side door.

I halted.

The damp grass toward the back of the manor was smashed like someone had walked through it.

Perhaps Natasha checking on her garden. I blew it off and headed for the workout room.

Sure enough, there was Ophelia doing Downward Facing Dog.

“I wondered when I’d see you,” she said, like she expected me.

“Are you psychic now?” I asked.

“You stomp around when you’re anxious,” she said. She shifted to Mountain with the fluid grace of a cat.

“Do not.”

“You do,” she countered. She held Mountain for a long moment, then said, “You went to see Killian.”

“How did you know that?”

“I saw you cross the front lawn. Seemed obvious.” She moved into Chair Pose. “What’d he tell you?”

“Nothing useful.” I frowned.

“You mean nothing useful to you,” she countered.

How did she know? “He said the wards are fancy warning signs.”

“His wards,” she said. “He’s not wrong.” She moved back into Mountain, not meeting my gaze.

“You know something,” I said. It was a shot in the dark, but I took it.

She did a Standing Forward Bend. I figured so she wouldn’t have to look at me. “I’m Jon Snow. I know nothing.” Her voice was muffled against her knees.

“Ophelia—”

“Okay, yes. I know something.”