Page 82 of Redline Communion

“Great. I love protocols. They’ve been wonderful to me.”

“Lorelei,” Cassian says.

I look at him.

He has no right to sound worried, which is inconveniently different from me wanting him not to be.

“What?”

“This is not the place.”

“Then tell me the place.”

He doesn’t answer.

Of course he doesn’t.

Whatever has been holding me together gives way so cleanly that the anger on the other side feels almost peaceful.

I turn toward the sideboard.

The folder beside Cassian is made of cream stock with brass corners, and I recognize it before I touch it. Cassian moves, and so do three other people.

They’re too late.

I grab the folder.

Alistair’s voice changes.

“Put that down.”

Finally.

A sentence without incense on it.

I open the cover.

The first page is mine.

Lorelei Vale.

Still wrong.

Beneath the name is a sequence of dates and locations connected by arrows: Marazul, Liore, Ravello. At the bottom, a line in smaller print reads, Local rite establishes eligibility for inter-branch consideration.

My eyes stop there.

Not marriage, not exactly, and apparently not yet.

Consideration.

Several names appear beneath mine: Cassian Vale. Rafael Devereaux. A red line striking through the space where Asher Vale used to be. Nicolas Devereaux. Étienne Laurent.

Two more names I don’t recognize.

My stomach drops.

Then I turn the page and find a record I don’t remember signing.