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“It’s impossible,” I muttered.
“What’s impossible?”
I whipped my head up as Cirilla spun around. Elix stood in the doorway of the office, shaking her head. “Honestly, it was your idea to have dinner together. If you were going to stand me up, the least you could have done was text me.”
“Elix…” I muttered, rising.
“What’s impossible? What are you two talking about in here that kept me starving for the last hour?” Elix asked, sauntering into the office.
“We’re just trying to figure some things out,” Cirilla said quickly, shooting me a look as she tried to gauge my position.
“Yeah?” Elix asked, also looking at me.
Are we going to tell her? Should she know about this?
“No,” I said aloud. “She needs to hear this.”
Elix’s smile froze. “Hear what?”
“Jace, maybe—” Cirilla started to say, but I stopped her.
“I want to know if she knew.”
Elix’s head moved back and forth like she was watching a competitive sport, her complexion waning. “What’s going on? Is this about me?”
“Maybe you should sit down, Elix,” Cirilla suggested.
“Just tell me!” Elix insisted. “What is it?”
“The results from your DNA test came back,” Cirilla explained, again looking at me.
Despite her earlier refusal, Elix suddenly reached out for the nearest chair, her hand curling around the top as she pulled ittoward her. “Okay…?” she said, sliding into it. My blood pressure spiked as I studied her reaction, anger sweeping through me.
She knows! Or at least she always suspected! Why didn’t she say anything?
“And?” Elix squeaked.
“Why do you look so afraid?” I accused.
She jerked her head toward me, her eyes widening. “It’s obviously not good news if you’re looking at me like this,” she replied nervously. “What is it? Am I part warlock? Do I have slug shifter in my blood somewhere?”
The attempt to crack jokes was falling flat and only fueling my ire with her.
“I also ran your brother’s DNA,” Cirilla explained.
“Your half-brother,” I spat.
Genuine shock colored Elix’s face. “What?! No way. Saint is my brother. Fully. What are you suggesting about my mother?”
“Nothing,” Cirilla interceded quickly, her scathing look silencing me for half a second. “We don’t know anything but what the lab results are telling us, and that is, you and Saint don’t share a father.”
Elix was out of her chair, waving her chin with such vehemence, her braid began to unravel. “You’re wrong! My mother adored my father. She didn’t even date after he died. You’re so off base right now?—”
“That’s not all of it,” I cut her off. “That’s not even the worst of it.”
Elix again looked from me to Cirilla, a veil falling over her face as if she no longer trusted either of us. “Oh?” she spat. “What else?”
“Elix, I’m only giving you the facts I’ve discovered,” Cirilla told her patiently. “This isn’t biased information—it’s science.”
