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“We hunted before we arrived,” Quill says.

Nerissa rolls her eyes as she cracks open a round window and whistles a single high-pitched note. “That”—she slams the window shut—“my dear boy, is no way to make introductions.” She casts me a wry grin as she crosses into the kitchen and clutches my bloodstained hands in hers. “You must be Rory.” She squeezes my fingers. “I’d love to know precisely how you tamed my beast of a son, and I’ll tell you all about his most embarrassing moments as Godrick’s childe.”

“Nerissa,” Quill says with a sigh. “This is exactly why⁠—”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Nerissa,” I interrupt him, letting her guide me out of his arms and to the small wooden table by the window she likely spoke to Cora through moments ago. “To my horror, Quill experienced all my memories when he sired me, so I’d thoroughly enjoy hearing every single embarrassing moment of his that you can recall.”

Her seafoam green eyes glitter with mischief as she tilts her head back and laughs. The sound is reminiscent of seashells tinkling against one another in the breeze, and I decide right then and there that I like her. “You’re going to fit in perfectly amongst those heathens, Rory.”

Quill pinches the bridge of his nose. “For the thousandth time, my kindred are not heathens.”

She wipes her finger across the table and frowns at the dust. “You believe it’s acceptable to bring your mate home to this?”

After Nerissa’s playful needling of Quill, we clean the cottage from floor to ceiling, though there isn’t much that really needs to be done. The ancient magic used to build this quaint home has done a wonderful job at preventing the layers of dust coating the windowsills and hand-carved furniture scattered throughout from caking into the surfaces.

Quill’s speed is a welcome asset as he darts from room to room sweeping, dusting, and removing all the cobwebs clinging to the corners. Nerissa hands me a stack of white sheets dotted with pale-blue flowers and points me in the direction of the bedroom. The bedroom Quill and I are meant to share while his stepmother sleeps in the next room over. A shiver sparks through me as I tuck the corners in and spread a thick, floral-print quilt across the wide mattress.

Nerissa peeks into the room, bringing the scent of saltwater with her. “I’m all finished out in the living room and kitchen. I’ve sent Cora home, so when you’re finished with the bed, let’s take a break.” She flashes a dazzling smile at me. “Are you familiar with the board game Consortium?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Because it’s not an actual board game,” Quill says as he tucks a pillow into a pillowcase, its pattern the twin of the quilt’s. “Nerissa made it up.”

“Spoilsport.” Her grin widens. “Be ready to have both of your bottoms kicked in five.”

She vanishes from the threshold as quickly as she arrived, but her effervescent presence lingers in the scent of sea and salt that’s in the air. I can’t help but stare after her, can’t help but admire her resilience. Losing a mate is supposed to be like losing a part of yourself, and yet, Nerissa didn’t let that darkness take hold. Didn’t let it turn her into someone she’s not.

“She’s…” I begin but trail off. “I really like her.”

Quill smiles as he snaps the wrinkles out of the patterned quilt. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Chapter 27

QUILL

Rory and I find Nerissa curled up on the couch in front of the hearth with a mug of chamomile tea cradled in her hands. Steam drifts toward the freshly cleaned ceiling in lazy spirals.

Nerissa takes a long sip, her eyes assessing me over the rim of her mug. “Grab Consortium from the cupboard, would you?”

I’m back with the game within seconds, and I watch as Rory settles onto the couch beside my stepmother. Nerissa lifts the edge of the throw blanket she has draped across her and lets Rory scoot under it.

Without waiting for Nerissa’s inevitable prompting, I unpack the game board from the box and spread everything out on the low table in front of them.

“I’ll be the crown,” Nerissa says, leaning forward and plucking the game piece from the box and setting it on the board. “Which piece would you like to use, Rory?”

Rory examines the remaining tiny golden pawns—dagger, horse, rose, thimble, bow and arrow, and pouch of coin—and chooses the rose from the assortment.

“Good choice,” says Nerissa. “Quill?”

“As if you don’t already know which one I’ll choose,” I say, rolling my eyes as I select my usual pawn—the bow and arrow. Rory’s gaze meets mine, a tentative smile playing at her rosy lips as she sets her pawn on the board beside mine.

Nerissa drains the rest of her tea. “Let’s play!”

We explain the game to Rory as best as we can for a game made up by a siren who revels in plundering ships for their gold and jewels. The entire point of the game is to roll the die and make it around the board before anyone else, but there are questions along the way that you must answer honestly or your piece will move right back to the original starting point.

It’s a game meant to keep players honest, a game meant to reveal the liars in our midst.