Page 71 of Roaring Spell

“Your face is doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you try to look neutral.”

“We were running through the Overgrowth.”

“Running doesn’t cause swollen lips.”

“How would you know what causes⁠—“

“I’m mated.” Aslan’s grin turns knowing. “I know exactly what causes swollen lips. And that expression. And the way you keep touching your mouth like you’re reliving a memory.”

I drop my hand from my face. I hadn’t realized I was doing that.

“Can we focus on the actual investigation?”

“We can multitask.” Elio slides a drink across the table toward me. “So. The witch. You finally stopped pining and actually made a move.”

“I didn’t⁠—“

“You absolutely did. The evidence is overwhelming. The calm weather. The disheveled appearance. The fact that you’re currently blushing, which I didn’t think bears could do.”

“Bears don’t blush.”

“You’re blushing right now.” Rhodes doesn’t look up. “It’s a very dignified blush. Almost invisible. But definitely present. I’m documenting it for the record.”

“There’s no record.”

“There’s always a record. I started a file on your romantic situation three weeks ago. It’s grown considerably.” He finally looks up, expression completely neutral. “The chapter on ‘denial’ alone is seventeen pages.”

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke about documentation.”

Aslan snorts. “He’s not joking. He read excerpts at last week’s meeting. Very thorough. Very detailed observations about your ‘protective hovering’ and ‘aggressive coffee delivery schedule.’”

“This is harassment.”

“This is concern.” Aslan’s voice gentles slightly. “We’ve watched you pine for weeks. Write embarrassingly earnest poetry. Take coffee to a woman’s studio every morning like clockwork. If you finally made a move, we want to know.”

The silence stretches. Three pairs of eyes watching. Waiting.

“I kissed her.” The words come out rough. “She kissed me back. Several times. Can we please talk about the Preserver agent who’s trying to destroy the town?”

“We can talk about both.” Aslan produces a folder. “Elio’s been digging into Valesh’s background. And you’re going to want to hear what he found.”

The information is damning.

Twenty years on the Elder Council—but before that, gaps. Years unaccounted for. Travel to locations where other incidents occurred. A pattern of presence wherever witch-shifter pairings were prevented or disrupted.

“She was in Thornwood when the claiming between the witch Mariana and the wolf alpha was interrupted.” Elio spreads photographs across the table. “In Silverhollow, when the siphon network was first discovered. In Blackreach when⁠—”

“The massacre.” My voice comes out flat. “Twelve familiars died in Blackreach.”

“And three witch-shifter pairs were separated before they could complete their claiming.” Elio’s expression hardens. “Valesh was there. Visiting family, according to the records. Family who don’t exist. I checked. Three times. Using multiple networks. The family she claimed is fictional—names pulled from graveyards, addresses that lead to empty lots.”

“She fabricated an entire cover story.”