“Here,” she said, offering the gun, “take a shot.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Ferrien to no one in particular, as Ilsa accepted the gun and let Cassia mould her into a forward-facing stance, the revolver in both hands. Bracing herself for the bang, she squinted at the bullseye and pulled the trigger. A moment of focus, a spike of adrenaline, and then the sudden, ferocious burst of power from between her fingers.
She clipped the edge of the target. Letting her arms fall, she let out a stream of creative curses, and raised an eyebrow at Ferrien. “Think you could be Eliot?”
Cassia made a noise that might have been a laugh. Ferrien lowered his brow and, declaring that he’d had enough, stalked back to the house. When they were alone, Cassia cocked her head and asked, “Eliot?”
“You’ve met him, ain’t you?”
“I torched a pillow once when he made me angry,” she replied, taking the gun. She studied it in her hand, then added, “Gedeon always took his side.”
Ilsa barely had time to step out of range before Cassia was shooting again; three quick shots found their mark.
“I’m sensing he’s been on your mind,” Ilsa said so drily that Cassia almost looked proud.
“Am I awful?” she said. “For being so vexed with him for the way he left? He must have had his reasons, and yet I can’t stop going over everything I want to say if… if I ever see him again.”
“Vexed? Vexed is when you’re playing chess and Oren watches your move and makes that tutting noise. I’d say you’re closer to murderous. And I’d rather a friend what was murderous than mournful any day. Anger makes you useful. Sadness just makes you tired.”
Cassia considered for a moment, her fingers rhythmically squeezing the handle of her revolver. When she looked up, neither mist nor ice reflected in her bright green eyes, but warmth. “Thank you, Ilsa.”
Ilsa hesitated, nervously straightening her skirt, but there would never be a good time to say what she needed to. “’Bout that fight what you had with Gedeon,” she blurted. “I think I know what you din’t tell me.”
Abruptly, Cassia’s painful stillness returned, and Ilsa regretted the change in topic. “Oh?”
There was nothing for it now. “I think when you pointed out his trip might be a bad idea, he was suspicious of why. I think he accused you of leaking information back to someone in the Heart. Of being a spy.”
Silence. Ilsa held her breath to disguise all the uncertainty in her claim. But she’d had a hunch. Aelius said the rebels had known about the trip, and maybe Gedeon had feared that; suspected it. His lover was a Sorcerer, after all.
Some of the fire was back as Cassia took a deep breath and faced her. “I’m not, you know.”
“I think I believe you, even though no one’s being honest, it seems.” At least she could fill in the blanks about Cassia. Maybe she could forget about Eliot’s secrets for a few hours.
“I still can’t for the life of me understand what gave him the idea.” Cassia had put the gun carefully in the case that rested open atop a small folding table. “It’s common sense, isn’t it? That if he and all his strongest wolves were elsewhere, we would be weak at the Zoo. The rebels were cropping up frequently enough that of course I was worried. But Gedeon said as long as the rebels didn’t know, there wasn’t a problem, and that if I thought otherwise, perhaps there was something I needed to tell him.” Her fingers traced the edges of the revolver case that still stood open. “I’d made my peace with it. The fight, I mean. The way he accused me of betraying him, of playing him for a fool, of never… never loving him at all. I forget sometimes how young he is to be dealing with all this. Before my grandfather died, he’d never truly faced any of the difficulties of being alpha, and then suddenly things were getting worse and worse. I’d chalked it up to pressure.
“But then he left,” she said, her fingers reaching for the crutch of the revolver again, “and I think it’s me who’s been a fool.” She frowned, turning on Ilsa. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything, but I really didn’t see that it mattered why Gedeon and I fought. It was only a lie by omission. Why do you bring it up?”
“Because I discovered something. I think the rebels what attacked you did know ’bout the Millwater trip, and I was wondering who could’ve told them.”
“You think there is a spy,” Cassia said faintly. She shook her head. “It’s not possible. The rebels must have been in league with the Oracles longer than we thought. That’s how they got the information.”
“I already considered that,” said Ilsa carefully, “but it don’t make no sense. Cogna hadn’t been kidnapped when the rebels first came. The Oracles had no reason to get involved.”
“Perhaps one of them did. Or there’s another explanation. Everyone who knew about the trip to Millwater has proved their loyalty to Gedeon.” She shook her head again, and the frown deepened. “Eliot put this idea in your head, didn’t he?”
“What? No, I—”
A twig snapped beyond the grove and Ilsa’s head snapped to the source of the sound. But there was no one there. Ilsa was letting herself get wound up for nothing. She shook her head, shaking off the unease still prickling her neck. But when she turned back around, Cassia was pointing the revolver at her, that sad, distant expression on her face. Without hesitation,
