don’t know. I’ve never magnetized dust before.” I wasn’t even sure I knew how to get it out. I dug through my memories, trying to remember if I’d ever seen my mother do it, but couldn’t think of a single time. She was always so cautious about her trapped dusts. Yes, plural. She hadn’t only taken ownership of Remo’s grandmother’s dust. On the Day of Mist, she’d magnetized another Seelie’s wita, and since he’d died after attacking her, it had become hers. Which wasn’t usually the case, but Nima was unusual. Almost as unusual as I was.
“Never?”
I gnawed on my bottom lip.
The fact that I didn’t have the slightest clue how to coax it from my skin must’ve shown on my face, because Remo asked, “So you don’t know how to use it, do you?”
I shook my head.
He rolled his neck from side to side. There was a series of little pops. “Can’t believe I’m about to teach you how to wield a weapon you could use on me—”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. The same way that if you wanted me dead, I’d be dead.” I leaned my hip against the cool island. “And I don’t mean in this world, since death doesn’t seem to be final.”
He stared at me for a long time, as though dissecting my words, trying to find one that didn’t ring true. “I saw your mother use it. She touched her tattoo, then slowly dragged her hand away, and the wita clung to her fingertips.”
“When did you see her using it?” I wasn’t jealous, but I was surprised he, of all people, had had a demonstration.
“In the elevator. It was one of my . . . visions.”
Oh.
“She was arguing with Mom. It must’ve been right around the time she found out about what happened to my grandmother because she was asking your mother if it was true. If she’d really killed Stella.”
“Is this the part when you tell me my mother brought out her dust to gas yours?”
He shot me a remarkable glare before averting his gaze and rubbing his earlobe. “Actually, it was my mother who brought out her wita.” He said this so quietly I thought I misheard him. “Your mom stepped back and clutched her neck, yelling at mine to stop. That she didn’t want it to come to this. My mother didn’t put it away, so your mother brought hers out and crafted some sort of shield.” His eyes seemed slightly unfocused, as though he was standing in the same room as our feuding mothers. “Your dad arrived then, shouted at my mother, threatening to throw her out of Neverra, and then grabbed yours and flew out of the calimbor.”
If only Gregor hadn’t opened his big mouth and blabbed to Faith that Nima had murdered his former flame. He insisted the information had slipped out, that he hadn’t meant to cause a rift between my mother and Remo’s. Though knowing the wariff’s fondness to have a finger in every pie, I betted his oversharing hadn’t been accidental.
“It’s hard to believe our mothers were friends, isn’t it?” I kept expecting to see a younger version of Nima strut down Morgan Street. “It’s sad that your mother can’t forgive mine for the accident.”
He stared to the side again, played with his lobe again.
“No: It wasn’t an accident, Trifecta.”
The vein under his birthmark throbbed.
“Gejaiwe . . . have you finally seen the light?”
He snapped his eyes back to mine. “What I saw was a scene that might’ve been fabricated for all I understand of this place!”
I crossed my arms. “Trust me, if you witnessed me calling your eyes poison-green and using flowery descriptors for your personality, everything you observed was very factual. As factual as everything I observed.”
He gave his jaw a workout. “Except your grandfather’s awfully lively for a dead person.”
A growl vibrated at the back of my throat. “Because Cruz Vega brought him back to life.”
“Your little hero.”
My blood heated so fast I thought my fire might’ve come back, but when I tried to produce flames to char off Remo’s eyebrows—apparently, I was spiteful like that—no fire lit up my tattooed palm, or my untattooed one. “What is your problem with him?”
“My problem is that everyone’s so obsessed with him. He didn’t single-handedly save Neverra. My grandfather was right there, helping him.”
“Aw. Are you lacking recognition?”
“I don’t give a shit about recognition, Trifecta.”
I glowered at him, and he glowered right back. I tried to reconcile my heart