“She’s good,” Quinn declared. “And the device appears to be calibrated correctly. Let’s get her out and move on to the next one.”
Caeda removed the neural cap, taking care not to disturb Astrid’s hair, while Hamish called in the next subject.
Astrid came to sit beside Becka again, tucking a loose braid back into place as she got comfortable.
Brent brought in one of the fae household guards and Caeda repeated the setup process as everyone watched.
“How are you doing today?” Astrid asked Becka in low tones to not disturb the enforcers. “I’m sure Alain’s announcement last night must have upset you.”
Becka sighed. Sure, she was upset, but did Astrid really think she’d wanted to marry that dolt?
“I hate what happened to Hanna. If I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat.”
“Of course you would, dear. You’re not a monster.”
“How did Maura take the news?” Becka asked.
Astrid blew out a long breath. “How do you think she took it? I haven’t seen her that angry in years.”
“Glad I wasn’t there.”
“It’s for the best. Alain wanted to grandstand, so he delivered the news to Maura as she came down the great staircase. He’s got an impressive set of lungs. I’m guessing even Vott heard him.”
“Vott’s still in a coma.”
“Exactly,” Astrid replied. “Anyway, we received a letter from the House of Time—House Ash—informing us they stand with House Hawthorne. They refuse to do business with House Rowan while you’re here, for the safety of their people, so they say.”
Becka rubbed her temples. “Are there any Ash in residence here?”
“No, none by marriage, nor any here as tradesmen, so the immediate impact of their decision is minimal. But we can predict others will take up Hawthorne’s banner on this issue. Yew and Blackthorne are likely to follow, as they share the same territory and have long aligned.”
“What’s the plan for damage control?” Becka asked. She might not be able to heal the rift with Hawthorne, but Becka hoped she could help mend fences with houses swayed by Alain’s charges.
“You think just like her.” Astrid gave a halfhearted smile. “She’s mulling it over, being deliberate and not reactive. We must wait to see where the other houses fall, but Maura will entreaty all to reason. Her plan to offer compensation for Hanna’s injury is on the table, but it’s not likely enough to mollify Hawthorne. I hear Alain gets his temper from his father, Duke Eldinrod.”
“I’m not surprised. I mean, they are fire elementalists.”
Astrid laughed, and then so did Becka. Caeda shot them a warning look, reminding Becka of her self-proclaimed status as the killer dragonfly. They quieted down, and Becka mouthed a sorry to Caeda, who shook her head in disappointment at them.
“We’ll figure something out. Arguments break out between houses all the time.”
Becka suspected it wouldn’t be that easy and that Astrid was minimizing the situation. “If Hawthorne gathers enough support, won’t that be dangerous?”
Astrid frowned. “They won’t take it too far. The houses no longer war, not since losing the Great War with the humans. It taught us that other fae are not our enemies, and yet we appear versed in bickering endlessly.”
Becka nodded in agreement, hoping Astrid was right.
The questioning carried on for a few hours, during which time they got through the entirety of the household guards, the shifter guards, and several council members. Even Maura had popped through, intent on showing cooperation, despite her distrust of the enforcers.
“Let’s break for lunch,” Quinn announced.
Becka stretched her arms and legs and then reached down to close the book. Three words stood out to her.
Home. Not. Safe.
She slammed the book shut. As if she hadn’t already figured that one out.
Chapter 25
Lunch comprised a platter of cut fruit, nuts, warm bread, and artisan cheeses. Everything Becka ate was checked twice. The shifters were taking zero chances.
She climbed the stairs to the rooftop garden to avoid the pointed looks and whispers from the fae she passed in the halls. Everyone had heard by now of the fallout with House Hawthorne and they’d all heard about the interrogations taking place.
Becka didn’t have the impression she was anyone’s favorite Rowan at the moment, unique and powerful gift or no.
Becka sipped iced tea and contemplated the Shadow-Dweller book’s last message. Why would it bother to tell Becka her home wasn’t safe, when such truth was obvious? Historically, it had shown her things she didn’t know or suspected. Was it pointing out a new threat or was it emphasizing that the current threat hadn’t yet passed?
She had no way of knowing.
Quinn, who had followed her to the roof and given her some space to eat alone, finished his conversation with Hamish and Caeda and then walked over and sat down beside her, resting his elbows on his knees. The three had eaten sandwiches while they walked and talked, which she assumed was a habit of working long hours as investigators and grabbing meals on the go.
“You’re lost in thought,” he said. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Yes, can we walk?”
He stood and offered her his hand, helping her up. Becka threw her bag over her shoulder and led him down the stairwell at the side of the house and down to the meditation garden. Row upon row of short hedges formed a large labyrinth which was deserted.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he prompted.
Wasn’t her anxiety patently obvious? “I’m afraid this drama with Hawthorne will blow up.”
“Not to sound hyperbolic, but I’m sure it’s just beginning to blow up.”
“You don’t think I’m overestimating the issue?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he said. “Your gift, once known, always had the potential of being feared. That’s just the nature of some powers. Ironically, Hawthorne’s called the House of Thorns not just because it’s a play on the name, but also because of the thorny and prickly nature of fire-based gifts.”
“That’s true. I suppose I’d come to think of Alain as prickly and dour, not prickly and a fireball,” Becka replied.
“Why do you think
