Page 61 of Roaring Spell

“Go,” he says. “I’ll stay here. Make sure no one comes back.”

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“I want to.” His eyes hold mine. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

When you get back.

Not if. When.

“Okay.” I let Leire pull me toward the door. “Thank you.”

He nods once. And I could swear his expression softens—just for a moment—before the mask slides back into place.

Leire’s apartment above her store is warm and cluttered and smells like cinnamon. Even though she lives with Aslan in his cabin, she’s kept up the apartment for times like this.

It still feels like a home—photographs on the walls, soft blankets on the couch, a reading nook by the window where the light pools golden in late afternoon. It feels lived in. Loved.

Anouk is already there, elegant even in casual clothes, a glass of wine in her hand. “The access logs are inconclusive. Whoever bypassed your wards used a generic authorization—one that could belong to any of the Elder Council members. Councilor Faine has been particularly active in the Registry access logs lately, but I can’t tie it to your ward breach yet. I’m watching him.”

“But you suspect Valesh.”

“I suspect everyone at this point.” She picks up her wine. “But Valesh has been... particularly interested in your abilities. Your episodes. Your relationship with the Protection Network.”

“My relationship with Torin.”

Anouk’s lips twitch. “That too. She asked me last week if the claiming rumors were true.”

“There are claiming rumors?”

“There are always claiming rumors when a witch spends time with a shifter.” She sips her wine. “I told her it was none of her concern. She didn’t appreciate that answer.”

The door bursts open. Zeph appears carrying what looks like a small keg and several bottles of various colors.

“Emergency alcohol delivery.” She deposits everything on the coffee table with the enthusiasm of someone who’s been waiting for an excuse to break out the special reserves. “Regular wine for the regular people. Special brew for those who want to see colors. I’ve been experimenting with emotion-specific batches.” She starts arranging bottles with surprising precision for someone who usually embodies chaos. “Now. Who’s ready to drink their feelings and plan revenge?”

She pours glasses for everyone.

“To Sakura.” Zeph raises her glass. “Who had her studio destroyed by cowardly bastards and is still standing.”

“Still standing,” Leire, Anouk and I say in unison.

We drink.

“So.” Zeph settles onto the couch with the gracelessness of someone who’s already had a few. “Let’s talk about who we’re going to destroy.”

“The investigation is ongoing—” Anouk starts.

“Boring. I want revenge planning. I want dramatic speeches about justice. I want⁠—”

“Evidence,” Anouk interrupts. “Then we can plan revenge.”

“Evidence is less satisfying.”

“Evidence is what keeps us from accidentally destroying innocent council members.” Anouk’s voice is dry. “Though at this point, I’m not convinced any of them are innocent.”

“You think there’s more than one?” Leire asks.

“I think Valesh isn’t working alone. The siphons, the sabotage, the systematic attacks on the Warding Line—this is coordinated. Planned. She has help.”