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I eat and try not to think about her putting herself—and the pup growing inside her—at risk. Roman is probably giving her enough shit as it is.

“They seemed stronger. None had witches like the one you encountered, but one said that the end of the wolves was upon us.” She shrugs, digging into her own bowl. “You know how they like to brag.” Her gaze still lifts occasionally, but she seems satisfied that the witch won’t suddenly drop through the ceiling.

I grunt. “If they have the Seer…”

“About that.” Jessamine sets her fork aside. “She wasn’t just any Seer.”

I narrow my eyes. We were only put on this Seer’s path because of an interrogation with another witch. One who ranted about the powerful, covenless witch who thought she was above them all. Our captive met a quick death once she’d told us where to find the covenless one.

We did our research, of course. Spent time asking townsfolk, humans, about the woman who lived a mile away. The one who kept to herself. Who had a daughter who had only recently moved back home.

My hunters had come back with almost too much detail. The Seer had integrated herself deeply into the village, but it seemed to happen almost by accident. In small increments, like she was trying to resist… but unable.

There was less said about the daughter.

But they still knew of her. And they may very well notice her absence. With any luck, they’ll assume the pair packed up and moved on.

However, with the way my sister is watching me, I can tell there’s something else. Something worse.

I learned a long time ago that surprises never end well.

We can prepare for years and still be caught off guard. Such is the nature of dealing with witches and demons. It doesn’t help that the humans couldn’t seem to recall the Seer’s name, or her daughter’s. A curiosity that boiled down to a different sort of concealment spell.

They knew her face, they knew her comings and goings, but they couldn’t tell me her name. Or what she did while she was in town.

“Tell me.”

“The Seer is Lenora Dreamstone.”

I stare at Jessamine, waiting for the smile to say she’s kidding. Lenora Dreamstone is something of a legend. One of the most powerful Seers of her generation—and she’s supposed to be dead.

If that was false, and it clearly was, did she fake her death to protect her child?

Everyone knows the story of Dreamstone’s death. That tale is almost as famous as she is.

Now it’s my gaze that lifts to the ceiling, my hearing pressing upward.

The witch’s footsteps are slow across my bedroom. Her heartbeat is slow, too. Steady.

Lenora Dreamstone’s daughter.

The taste of her blood, and the power in it, makes more sense.

My father ensured that I knew everything about our enemies. Witches and demons alike. He needed me to be intimately familiar with who we were fighting and why. His methods were extreme, yes. I can’t say they were unnecessary, though. They shaped me into who I am today.

There’s no way the daughter of one of the most powerful Seers in the country didn’t inherit any of her mother’s power.

She should’ve seen me coming.

And when I attacked her, she fought physically. The vines that yanked me up were clever, not strong. There’s something that isn’t adding up, and I contemplate the taste versus the presentation.

“What’s her name?” I don’t want to care, but my wolf perks at the question. He doesn’t particularly care about names either. He doesn’t have a human name. But he wants to know her in all aspects, and this is just another part of it.

Jessamine hesitates. My gaze cuts to her, and she finally relents.

“Astra Somnium.”

I rise suddenly, feeling too hot for my skin. My sister watches me, and I hate the weight of it. I’m too restless. Off-balance. I find a bowl and portion out some of the casserole for the witch.