“Fugitives?” Valec grins. “Briana, you become more fun by the second.” He looks to Lucille. “That’s not even the best part, Lu. That power you felt earlier? She lit up like a volcano. Spontaneous root generation.”

“Hmnh.” Lucille moves to sit down. “Why would anyone ask the ancestors for that? Too much power for Valec’s lil’ club, especially just to put on some show.”

Mariah blinks twice at me, eyes wide. She knows exactly how it’s too much power and why, but she won’t tell Lucille about my Bloodcraft without my permission.

At the look shared between me and her niece, some bit of understanding flickers across Lucille’s face. “You got something to say, Mariah?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll get us some more tea.” Mariah rushes to leave the room.

“I see.” Lucille looks at me, then Valec. “How’d you get my name?”

“Samira,” I say.

Her eyebrows raise. “Samira Miller?” She looks at William and Sel again, this time with suspicion. “Still cannot believe you’d bring a Merlin into my office, Valechaz.”

“Well,” Valec says, pointing at Sel. “This one’s worth about two cents. They got him void cuffed, exiled, away from his Oaths, and he’s generally and otherwise a miserable sonofagun.” Sel rolls his eyes up to the ceiling.

“He a danger to others?” Lucille regards Sel’s features.

Valec makes an iffy sound. “Looks worse than it is. He’s not that far gone.” He points to William. “This one seems like he has some power, but he’s smart enough to not use it until he must. And that one over there, she’s human. Clever and observant.”

Mariah returns to the office with a tray of tea and sets it down on the low table off to the side. Valec moves swiftly around the table, bringing chairs to a circle and pausing to hold Lucille’s chair out especially. She offers him a wry smile, and he winks back.

“Bree, is it?”

All eyes turn to me. “Yes, ma’am.”

She holds a hand up. “Lucille is fine. I assume you and your friends are here for information, assistance, or both.”

“Yes,” I say, looking briefly at Mariah. “Mariah knows I’m still new to this. The root I make? It’s my ancestors’ power. I’ve only done it when I was possessed or scared for my life. I have to learn how to control it.”

“You keep blowing up like that, you’ll have every demon at your doorstep and every Rootcrafter nearby ’bout ready to pull out their hair when you knock them out of alignment with their own ancestors.”

“I know,” I admit.

“Is that why you’re on the run from the Order?” she asks.

“Partly. We know how to lay low, we think. It’s just the help with my abilities that I need the most.”