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“Your breakfast is ready,” Nerissa says, tugging me from my thoughts.

She opens a cabinet, cringing when the hinges let out a tiny squeak. She watches the hallway as if she expects such a small noise to wake Rory and then reaches for three mugs when she seemingly deems the coast is clear. In two, she steeps an herbal tea; the remaining she fills with warmed blood.

“Prepared just the way you like it.” She presses a mug into my hands, frowning. “Are you all right? You look distant.”

“Just thinking about something that happened last night.” I bring the mug to my lips and sip. “Has Cora brought word from Alyvia and Eliphas?”

“She did,” she says, venturing back into the kitchen where she flips two slices of ham. They sizzle in the pan as I wait patiently for her to continue. “Apparently, you have a connection to Alyvia’s niece, the heiress?”

“Cress,” I say, setting the mug down on the wooden table. “She’s a friend of Rory’s, and I guess, by association, an acquaintance of mine.”

Though she did once try to stake me.

Nerissa glances over her shoulder and scowls. “How many times must I ask you to use a coaster, Quill? Honestly,” she huffs, cracking two eggs into the pan, “it’s as if Godrick raised you in a barn.”

Fighting a smile, I slide a small woven mat under the mug and say, “Did Cress advocate for or against me?”

I pray for the former. We may have had a rocky start when we first met, but if she cares for Rory as much as I suspect, then this really could be an incredible allyship between us. Especially considering she’ll eventually become werewolf supreme when Alyvia steps down or meets her true death.

Silence swells as Nerissa plates her food and grabs her mug of tea. With vampiric speed, I whip around the table and pull out her chair and then drape myself back into my own as if this conversation isn’t one of the most important discussions I’ll have in my life.

“The heiress claims the two of you are dreamers with a shared vision for creatures,” she says, eyeing the pulled-out chair with a knowing grin. Godrick had always been a true gentleman to Nerissa—opening doors, pulling out chairs, kindly pointing out when she had lipstick on her teeth. Small details I picked up on. “Perhaps you weren’t raised in a barn after all.”

“What else did Cora have to share?” I prompt.

She breathes in the floral aroma of her tea, eyes fluttering shut for only a moment as if the scent alone transported her far from the snowy dregs of Wynterhaven. “Well, because of Cress’s high opinion of Rory, Alyvia would like to meet with you and your mate in Nightfell by midnight.”

“So soon?” I ask, already charting our journey. Nightfell is close to the Mocking Woods, where the trees are known to manipulate trespassers into believing their worst fears are happening right before their very eyes. They’re ten times worse than my illusions and can drive those who fail to escape their clutches completely mad. It’s better to avoid them at all costs. “I’d imagined they’d at least want to wait until dawn.”

“Time is of the essence when it comes to the Challenge.” She takes a bite of crunchy bread smeared with raspberry preserves. After she swallows, she adds, “Don’t you remember how swiftly Mihal was approved?”

The blood coating my mouth turns sour. As if I could forget how swiftly my sire was torn from this world, from me. How swiftly I could be torn from Rory.

I skirt her question and say, “I don’t think Rory should be involved in any of this.”

“She’s your mate.”

“It’s not safe for her.”

She sets down her cutlery and folds her thin arms across the table in a way I’ve seen her do countless times when she tried to change Godrick’s mind about something.

“You cannot hold those dear to you so tightly in your fist, Quill.” Her luminescent eyes shine with warning. “Eventually, you’ll crush them.”

I scoff. “My kindred seem to be doing just fine within the confines of my fist.”

She frowns at me. “You’re purposefully being obtuse. What happened last night when the two of you left Wynterhaven?” My eyebrows lift and she adds, “You used to be much quieter when you’d sneak from your bedroom.”

“Nothing happened.”

Her eyes narrow. “You also used to be much better at lying.”

Pressing my palms into my eyes, I say, “Rory wanted to partake in the Pledging last night, but I refused.”

Silence.

Then— “You refused?”

I lower my hands and blink away the golden sparks until Nerissa’s grim expression is in full focus. “Yes.”