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“Yes, lovely.” The click of heels had me turning. Olive Whitlock, Clayton’s mother, walked down a curved staircase, her shrewd amber gaze moving over me. Her lips pursed. Not a fan of leather pants then?

“The one of the mother’s serpent has been in our family for hundreds of years,” Olive said. “Our line has been taking part in the trials for a very long time.” She stopped in front of me. “This is your first attempt, yes?”

Apparently, the claws were out. “That’s right.”

She smiled, her gaze moving over me again from boots to hair before coming back to mine. “I hear you’re yet to complete your second task?”

“And where did you hear that?”

She lifted an elegant shoulder. “We talk. The more prominent families, I mean, we stick together. Come.” She strode off, expecting me to follow her like an obedient dog.

“You mean, you gossip,” I corrected, reluctantly trailing after her.

Clay winced a little, his expression apologetic.

Olive laughed, the sound was rusty, as if she didn’t find much to laugh at these days. Considering everything the family had been through in recent years, that didn’t surprise me. “I suppose you’re right.”

We entered another impressive room, but that was the point, wasn’t it? The Whitlocks wanted me to see how rich they were, how well connected. They either wanted to intimidate or impress me. I wasn’t quite sure which they were going for yet.

If they knew me at all, they’d know that wasn’t going to happen—on both fronts.

Olive sat, perching on the edge of her chair with all the regalness of the queen herself. Jesus, it even kind of looked like a throne. Clay sat on the love seat opposite and aimed that easygoing smile of his at me. I took the chair beside it, and the smile slipped before he rallied.

“So, what’s this about?” I didn’t owe them anything. They may be rich, but again, if they knew me, they’d know that didn’t mean anything to me. There was no coven hierarchy despite what families like this one had tried to create. As far as power went, I was stronger than both Clay and his mother put together, and they both knew it.

Olive leaned forward and motioned to a coffee pot and a plate of finger foods, ignoring my question. “Would you like something to eat or drink? The coffee is imported from Italy. It’s exquisite, you really should try it.”

“I’m fine, thank you. I actually have a busy day ahead so if we could cut to the chase.”

This pissed her off, and the false but brittle smile dropped in an instant. “How’s your sister…” She glanced at Clay, brow arched in question.

“Rose,” he said politely.

Everything inside me froze.

“Yes, Rose. I hear she’s unwell?” Olive said.

Clay turned to me. “Yes, people have been talking. They say you’ve been unsuccessful with treatment.”

My blade remained still, cool, at my side, no warning telling me there was imminent danger—I almost wished there was, because I had a strong and sudden urge to reach for it anyway. “My sister is none of your business.”

“Oh, of course not,” Clay said, flushing. “We were merely concerned. We were friends once, you and I, good friends.” He offered me a charming yet sympathetic smile, and I wondered if he spent time practicing it in the mirror. “I care about you and your family.”

I smiled back, and by the way his eyes widened slightly, I knew it looked as violent as I felt. Bringing up Roe felt a lot like a threat. “We haven’t spoken in years, Clayton. I honestly haven’t thought about you in all that time, and pretending that you care about me and my family is, quite frankly, horseshit.” I stood. “I don’t have time for whatever this is—”

“Wait,” Olive said. “Please, sit back down.”

I turned to her. “I’d rather not.”

She sighed. “Look, the only reason we brought up your sister is that we have the resources, access to incredibly rare relics and ingredients through our business, anything you need. Her illness is worsening, yes, and by all accounts, possibly derived from magic. We have the connections, people who could help you search, research, for the cure you need, anywhere in the world. We can afford the manpower that would take.” She crossed her legs. “We could help you, help Rose, immeasurably. Let us help you, Willow.”

Clayton stood, moving closer. “I’d like nothing more than to help your sister, Willow.”

My family was constantly searching for answers, and I had people searching in other parts of the world already. “I have it covered.”

“I’m sure you do, dear, but we could cast a much wider net.”

She was right, of course. My family’s funds, our resources, were limited. “And what is it you’d want in exchange for all this help? I assume your offer has a price, yes?” That was the real reason I was here after all. They wanted something from me.