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  Whoa. “Um.” Ruby searched for something tactful to say. Of course Cami or Ellie could come up with something that didn’t sound like an insult, but that wasn’t one of Rube’s greatest strengths. Graceful conversation was pretty much always a waste of time.

  Still, she had to try. “I never thought about it that way,” she managed, finally. “They’re not all bad. I have friends who aren’t kin.” Good friends.

  Best friends. It wasn’t their fault everything was shaking them up and making them grow apart.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well, they’ll turn on you. You can’t trust anyone.”

  Wow. “Not even your own? I mean, you have a brother, right? And your parents, and—”

  “They’re happy to send me off. My brother . . .” Conrad hopped down. “Never mind. I’m being rude again. Let’s walk.”

  “Sure.” Relieved, she fell into step beside him, ambling along the grass just at the border. “You’re not rude.” It sounded a little strange. “I mean, I can understand.”

  “You’d be the first, then.” He cut her a sideways glance, half his mouth tilted up in a wry smile, and she found herself smiling too.

  Maybe she was getting better at tact.

  NINE

  CRICK-CRACK. PEBBLES RATTLING AGAINST GLASS. “Rube!” A whisper-yell. “Come on, open up!”

  Rolling over, her room unfamiliar in that trembling instant between sleep and waking. They’d rambled all around the Park twice, and returned home smelling of sap and fresh air. Gran hadn’t said a word about the kin visits not happening, and Ruby’s amazement was only matched by Conrad’s slow smile.

  See how easy it can be, that smile said. It was enough to make her half believe he might be a solution.

  Or at least, the best option to happen along yet.

  “Rube, come on!” The whisper-yell, again, and a rattling.

  What the hell? She pushed the covers back and winced a little as her arm twinged. The bruise was already fading, but Conrad’s grip was strong. That sort of strength was scary and comforting all at once, like Thorne’s fierceness.

  Speaking of Thorne . . . A thin frown tilted her lips; she slid out of bed and padded to the window. Two quick tugs on the sash and it was up, night pouring in with an edge of chill. The plane tree just outside, with its convenient branch she’d used more than once to clamber out and explore the night, rustled under a heavier weight. Of course, he was taller, and wider in the shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, fiercely. “Gran will kill you.”

  “Only if she catches me.” Thorne’s expression was a thundercloud, his hair a wild mess. In the dark, he was almost brunet, and his dark eyes were merely gleams. “Where were you today?”

  “Showing my guest around. What the hell are you doing?” It was one thing for her to sneak out and meet the cousins on the corner or in the Park’s depths. It was an entirely different thing for him to be at her window, for God’s sake. His familiar scent, dark with an edge of musk, flooded her nose. The usual relief loosened her shoulders—she couldn’t have put it into words, how seeing him sometimes made the world steadier. It slowed down the whirling.

  Even if she had the words, she wouldn’t have told him. There was no point in making him think . . . well, things. Thinking things only caused trouble.

  Right?

  He leaned forward, almost breathing in her face. “Wanted to talk to you. Have you seen Hunter?”

  “Not since the train station. Why?” She braced her palms on the sill and leaned out, whispering.

  “He’s . . . something’s wrong with him.”

  “Other than the usual?”

  He glared, leaves stuck in his hair like a fey’s autumn crown. “There’s nothing wrong with him usually except he’s not dom enough for you. We all know it. Look, did he call or anything?”

  “Nobody’s dom enough for me, Thorne.” She chewed at her lower lip, wished she hadn’t, because his gaze fastened on her mouth. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hard to explain. Can I come in?”

  “Are you insane?” She cocked her head. Was there a soft sliding step, somewhere in the house?

  Thorne didn’t make any indication of hearing it. Instead, he plunged ahead. “I might be. Look, he says there’s something weird about this Grimtree. He doesn’t smell right, and I agree. Been thinking about it. Shouldn’t he have a sub around to keep him company and brush his boots? Maybe even his brother?”

  That was traditional, but Ruby hadn’t thought about it. Trust Thorne to find something to worry about. “There’s not enough room in the house for another male. Maybe Gran told them so. Maybe Grimtree wouldn’t send two root boys to look at one root girl. It might give the wrong impression. But seriously . . .” Ruby sighed. “This is it? You and Hunter don’t like him because I’m supposed to pick someone in-clan?”

  “Want you safe. And happy.” Thorne shrugged, the branch-es rustled alarmingly. His T-shirt was torn as if he’d been in a fight, but then again, he didn’t care about clothes. It probably drove Tante Carina to distraction, having to wash and mend for him. “I don’t think Hunt or this Grimtree can do either.”

  “Which just leaves you, right? And if you get caught here, I’ll get into trouble, Conrad will have to go home, and you can claim we’ve—”

  “What kind of guy would do that?” He was forgetting to keep his voice down. “Is that really what you think of me?”

  I wouldn’t put it past you to act first and think later. God knows that’s your default setting. “I think you’re not supposed to be here. Mithrus Christ, Thorne, you’re such a jerk.” How did he manage to irritate her so thoroughly every five minutes? It had to be a talent.

  “Glad to be. You’d eat a nice guy alive, Rube.” He shifted again, leaning back, and the branch creaked. “So you haven’t seen him.”

  “Nope. No call, no visit, zilch, zip.” Now she was starting to get worried. It was ridiculous, though. Hunter was just on the edge between dominant and submissive, right in the middle of the pack. It wasn’t like him to go haring off and do something stupid. He was usually the voice of reason when she dragged both of them out to have some fun. “What exactly are you afraid he’s doing?”

  “Getting himself into trouble. Same as you.” He eased back. “Be careful, okay? That Grimtree, something’s off about him.”

  “He’s perfectly nice,” she retorted as hotly as she could in a whisper. “He likes my driving!”

  “Then he’s crazy.” He winked and was gone, dropping out of the tree to land soft as a whisper.

  The irritation mounted another few notches. She longed to climb down, follow him, and smack him on the head, just to do it. The old Ruby would have.

  The Ruby Gran wanted her to be now, though, wouldn’t. She quietly closed the window and tiptoed back to bed, listening intently.

  Nothing. The cottage was still and silent, not even the static unsound of someone awake. With Thorne vanished, the place was an oyster shell, closed tight around her as a pearl. She could be the only living thing left in New Haven, and wouldn’t know it until morning. Unless she crept down the hall to check if Gran was still breathing, like she’d done as a little kid.

  What a great thought.

  Her arm hurt a little. She glanced in the mirror, seeing the dark print of Conrad’s fingers. Thorne hadn’t noticed, thank Mithrus.

  Not that she was worried, but something warned her it was probably best if she kept the two of them apart. Maybe she should add Hunter to that list. Juggle all three of them like a street busker throwing sylph-ether globes. Just don’t drop anything, because that would be a mother of an explosion.

  Under her tangled mop of hair, she was smiling. It was a secretive expression, and she watched as her eyes danced and her teeth peeped out just a little, glowing in the half-light. It was late, the waning moon no longer pulling on t
hat silver thread, and when she climbed back into bed she no longer felt so alone.

  TEN

  TWO DAYS LATER, SHE TOOK A DEEP, SURREPTITIOUS breath and tried again.

  “They’re my friends.” Even though they’re not kin. She tucked her feet underneath her on the couch. Sunshine hadn’t begun to come through the living-room windows yet, so the bronze lamps were lit, and the tapestry, for once, was silent. “You’ll like them. Cami doesn’t talk much—she used to stutter—but she’s really smart. Ellie, well, she’s super-smart too. All practical and shit, too.”

  “Vulgar.” But Conrad said it with a smile, lounging in the overstuffed royal-blue easy chair Gran never used. “There’s time later. I want to get to know you.”

  Which was nice, and made a traitorous little bubble of warmth rise under her sternum, but still. She itched to be out, doing something. “This is a good way to get to know me. We can’t hang out at home forever.”

  “Why not?” He stretched his long legs out, as if the living room wasn’t too small for him.

  At least if she got married she’d have a house of her own. The space might be nice, except Ruby was neutral on the subject of cleaning. A certain amount was necessary and nice, but doing it was a pain and best done quickly and thoroughly. She’d be responsible for meals too, and while she could market and cook, well, it wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. There was so much else you could be doing.

  Like wheeling over to the Vultusino mansion and lounging by the pool on a glorious sunny late-summer almost-afternoon. “There’s obligations. You know, social.”

  His expression darkened. His booted feet played with the round leather footstool, pushing it a little further away as he settled more firmly into the chair. “We both hate those.”

  I only hate some of them. She reached for diplomacy, yet again. For two days she’d been making small talk with him, and though he generally had something interesting to say, it was beginning to get a little . . . well, boring. “But they’re obligations. Anyway, my friends are different.”

  He shrugged. “Can’t we go for a drive?”

  No. “You just want to drive my car.”

  “She’s a nice car.” He grinned, fondly, as if the Semprena was his and he was proud.

  Nobody drives her but me. “If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. Gran should be back in an hour.” The Valhalla Bridge Club used to play marathons, but lately things had been serene enough that they met, played a few tricks or some mah-jongg, drank tea, and had long meandering discussions about tariffs and trade agreements, gossip, and whose child was going to make a good match or had done something naughty.

  They weren’t all Woodsdowne. Gran’s usual partner was a dowager from the Stregare Family—one of Nico Vultusino’s extended kin, a mover and shaker among the Seven. There was Mother Gothalle, an old, slightly dotty Sigiled charmer who lived near the core and had an agreement or three with the fey to bring certain things through the Waste. And iron-spined old Queenie Falada, whose family had been in New Haven since before the Reeve. Ruby didn’t know what Mrs. Falada imported or exported, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to.

  Sooner or later, she’d probably have to. Maybe after college. Which was creeping up on its stilt-legs, closer and closer all the time.

  Conrad, having settled the footstool just right, stretched out his long legs again. “You’ve gotten tired of me.” His mouth turned down, and he scratched at the clan cuff like it itched him.

  “No, I just want to see them before school starts.” It was, she decided, good practice in being patient. Gran was endlessly patient, when she needed to be.

  “Schoolgirl.”

  He probably didn’t mean it as nastily as it sounded, but she bounced up anyway. “Have fun staring at the walls. You’re going to miss seeing me in a bikini.”

  “Don’t go.” He didn’t move, just sat-sprawled with his golden eyes half-lidded. Somehow she got the idea he didn’t quite want her to stay.

  It took her thirty seconds to clear the house, and she twisted the volume knob all the way up. Tommy Triton was wailing about shaking down the walls, and even if it was juvenile pop, she sang along while the Semprena’s engine purred.

  • • •

  Up on the Hill the Vultusino mansion was a massive weight of gray stone, but the pool was a clear blue eye, surrounded by lovingly tended gardens and a cheerful little poolhouse with two changing rooms. Warm brick walkways and pale scrubbed concrete were always safe to walk on, and the water was heavily charmed to the right temperature.

  Cami settled, dripping, into a teak lawn chair. Even just risen from the glimmering water she looked polished, her hair a river of ink, her lips glossy red, and her pale skin gemmed with clear droplets. “Some s-sort of charmclan thing. Ell was bummed.”

  The sunshine was just right—not too hot, because of the steady breeze. The red bikini was an old friend, a veteran of plenty of afternoons just like this. Ruby wriggled a little with pure delight. “Well, at least Avery will be there to keep her company.”

  “You don’t like him.” Her blue eyes dancing, the Vultusino girl looked amused. She usually did, when it was just her and Ruby. Anyone else added to the mix upped the worry factor.

  Maybe she found Ruby super-soothing.

  Yeah, that’ll be the day. “I like him fine as long as he makes her happy.”

  “Speaking of which. This Conrad.” Cami’s expression had turned slightly anxious, eyebrows drawn together and her pretty mouth tilting down at one corner.

  Ruby shut her eyes. Sunshine all over her, a delicious buzzing, and each little drop from the pool against her skin was a tiny mirror-dot of sensation. “We have two days before school starts again.”

  “You’re avoiding.”

  So let me avoid. That wouldn’t fly. Cami would just worry. Her anxiety was a silent static, and it wore against the nerves.

  Maybe only Ruby would hear it. She shifted slightly, the red glow through her closed eyelids a thin screen between her and the world. “The whole thing is boring. I’m supposed to pick someone to settle down with long-term, preferably while attending Ebermerle so I don’t get tempted by any charmcollege boy hotties, then get married and squeeze out enough babies that the future of the rootfamily is assured.”

  “Aren’t you kind of . . . young for that?” Carefully, as if Cami wasn’t sure how far she could press. Her usual deck chair was shaded, and she would be sitting with her knees drawn up, hugging them. Just as she usually did.

  “I won’t breed until after college. But really, not all of us live forever.” It might have been unjustified, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Cami was quiet for a long moment. “It’s n-not forever.”

  The scars might be gone, but a ghost of the stutter remained. If it had been someone teasing her, or something physical, Ruby could have beaten it up or made it go away.

  You couldn’t fight some things, or solve them. They just sat there, hurting the people you loved. Forcing you to juggle faster and faster to keep everything from crashing down. “Family is forever. So is clan.” Both of them add up to a trap, she added inside her head. At least for me.

  Another long moment of silence. Was Cami watching her with that pitying look? That was the trouble with the Vultusino girl. She felt everything all the way down, and it made the world outside the walls dangerous for her. She needed protection.

  That used to be Ruby’s job, at least at school. She only had a year left before she was fired, so to speak.

  The thing was, with Cami scar-free and not stuttering—much—anymore, and Ellie out from under her evil stepmother and doing fine, Ruby might be terminated from the only job she outright liked a lot sooner. Thrown out like a sudden Twist, suddenly no longer part of the tiny group she’d tried so hard to earn a place in. Her own little corner of the world outside the clan.

  “Family.” C
ami sighed, very softly. Her chair was under a white sun umbrella, and it creaked a little as the wind touched it. “It means a lot of things.”

  To you, maybe. Ellie wasn’t getting the crap beaten out of her almost daily, and Cami was no longer so painfully, incredibly vulnerable. She was damn happy about both things, she really was.

  There was just another feeling mixed in with that happiness, a hot, unsteady one. “It does, you’re right.” Ruby essayed a smile. It felt odd against her face, like the mask it was. “You got some booze?”

  “Honeywine coolers, as usual.” The chair squeaked as Cami rose. “I’ll talk Marta out of them.”

  “Good deal.” She heard a slight exhale, and her eyelids flew open. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  “De Varre.” Nico Vultusino, lean and tall, his moss-green eyes squinting slightly against the flood of afternoon sunshine, appeared like a revenant at the edge of the white-painted pool-house. Even in a white V-neck and jeans, he’d never look like a cabana boy. That edge of danger and old red copper to his scent raised all her hackles, and he liked it that way. “Nice to see you.”

  That’s a lie, Family boy, but thank you. For Cami’s sake, she contented herself with a noncommittal noise. “Mh.”

  “Nico.” Cami, small and slim and fearless, padded barefoot toward him. “Did something happen?”

  “Will you stop worrying? It’s handled.” His teeth flashed in a very white grin, and he leaned forward. Just a little, as if he were a plant and Cami the sun. That slight, subtle movement told you everything you needed to know about them. “Everyone’s all friends again, at least until the next time that damn Canisari makes a fool of himself.”

  Ruby’s throat threatened to block itself. “Great. You could make yourself useful and bring us some booze. And something for yourself,” she added hastily, congratulating herself for the politeness. “We could sit around and talk about nothing.”