fear of the people in this room. Tanya’s fear. Grey had shown her that. With who he was and what he stood for. Even killing that warlock had been an act of honor. For his wife.
She tried to let him see that now, in her eyes. Only he looked away.
Still, she had to believe in him. He wouldn’t let her die here today.
“Where is this Tanya now?” Alasdair asked.
“Dead.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She could still hear Tanya’s screams as that warlock kept her locked down and Kaios ripped her to shreds, followed by a silence which hurt even worse.
“Why would a werewolf want you?” Persephone sneered.
“Because I’m an Aneval.”
Grey jerked his head to the side, looking away from her, and she knew he was remembering the animals in the forest that had saved their lives.
“And why would they care about that?” Persephone demanded. No doubt the poor woman wasn’t too happy to discover Grey’s powerless little nanny was actually something rather special.
“All animals have a certain draw for me. Shifters, to a certain extent, can dictate what I do. But, werewolves, because of their own brand of magic and the way it’s tied to their animal form, can…call to me. The more powerful, ancient ones—” She shook her head and had to consciously force her jaw to unclench. “They can control me or any other Aneval. It’s how Kaios got me to work against the demigod and witch I attacked, but my powers didn’t work against the wolf shifters. I think to his surprise.”
“Why did you not come to us in the first place? When Kaios was killed and you were released from his control?” Alasdair asked.
She grimaced. “I’d been raised to question if the Syndicate killed my parents. Then you killed the other warlock Kaios used without any understanding of why he did what he did, or that’s how it appeared at the time.”
Alasdair glanced at Grey, whose face seemed to have turned to granite, then sat forward. “Are you saying we killed an innocent man?”
“I know better now,” she said softly. “I learned the truth, and it made me start to question my beliefs. But the kind of trust you’re asking for takes…a lot.”
Again, he slid his gaze to Grey, who didn’t move.
Alasdair turned back to her. “Does that alleviate your concern about us?”
She blinked, pulling her focus back to the leader of all mages. “It…helps.” Given her upbringing, full trust would take time. “I’d rather not be locked up or killed because werewolves can control me.”
Persephone jumped to her feet. “Of course you should be execu—”
“Don’t you fucking say it,” Grey snapped the words so loud they seemed to bounce off the windows.
Persephone whipped a glare his direction. “But her kind are dangerous.”
He still wasn’t looking at Rowan. “No more than you or I. Sit down.”
After her mouth opening and closing a few times, Persephone did as he said. Then Grey nodded at Alasdair.
And Rowan had no idea what to do with any of that. Was he defending her? Did he hate her, but not enough to kill her? Look at me, she urged.
Alasdair, meanwhile, regarded her with a long, intent look before relaxing back in his seat. “So…why the deception, posing as Greyson’s nanny?”
Delilah put a hand on Rowan’s arm. “I’m afraid that was my idea. Rowan didn’t trust you, but I knew she needed the protection only her own people could offer. I know Greyson. I trust him. I sent her with the idea that she would hide in plain sight and try to thwart his investigation, but my hope was that they would earn each other’s trust. A Seer confirmed this to be the best course of action. Unfortunately, Kaios’s lover forced our hand.”
The trust thing was all news to Rowan. “I should’ve known you had a bigger plan,” she muttered under her breath.
Delilah squeezed her arm before releasing her, her only acknowledgment.
“I see,” Alasdair said. “Just so we’re clear…you descend from one of our most ancient families. You’re an Aneval, and werewolves can control you. You were raised by a demon. Anything else?”
Persephone’s expression reminded Rowan of an old woman in her village in Ireland whose face had drawn in on itself, giving her the constant expression of having sucked on a lemon. But Rowan could find no joy in the moment, because Persephone wasn’t important. Grey was, and he wouldn’t look at her anymore. Like he couldn’t stand the sight of her.
Rowan considered telling them about the