He sounded all torn up over it too.

“Don’t mention her name again.” My voice trembled. Grief. Rage. I wasn’t sure there was a line separating the two where she was concerned.

Graeson got quiet, but it was the unsettling peace of a man deep in thought. I didn’t trust it.

Hours later we hit the strip qualifying Falco as a town and parked on the curb in front of a faded meter with crackled glass. Blinds slatted three of the storefronts’ windows. A “For Lease” sign had been taped to the door of each empty space. The fourth, the one on the end, was papered over with old newsprint. If I tilted my head just right, the pane glimmered with a sheen of magic. Nothing about it advertised the purpose of the space, but two people entered and four left before we reached the door.

After stepping across the threshold, glamour flared behind my eyes and faded to leave green images superimposed on my retinas. We had stepped off the mundane street and into a gleaming lobby with a wide receptionist desk manned by a dryad wearing a handful of leaves artfully arranged into a halter-style dress. Other fae lounged in over-plush chairs or helped themselves to a food-service station that smelled spicy and rich with heated beverages.

The scent of fresh chai brewing made my mouth water. “What is this place?”

“This is safe house two-four-nine,” a chilly voice intoned. “It’s a low-level facility for fae assimilating into the area after forceful relocation from their home territory.”

The clipped voice at my ear made me jump. Throat tight, I propped my lips into a smile before I turned.

A petite woman stood behind me. At five-five I wasn’t tall, but I towered over her. Pale blonde hair a few shades lighter than mine was swept into a bun so tight I could probably bounce a quarter off her coif. Cornflower-blue eyes swept over me with anticipation, as if expecting me to yank Lori out of my jacket pocket. Two slender men outfitted in black fatigues accompanied her. Their sharp eyes never stopped scanning the area. Their palms rested on the hilts of swords they made no effort to hide.

“Magistrate Vause.” Speaking her name broke sweat down my spine. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

Trepidation had kept me from reading between the lines. I should have anticipated she would choose to witness a talent I was reluctant to use. The conclave liked to keep tabs on its resources, after all. Especially the underutilized ones.

“This matter requires special attention.” A practical smile. “And here I am.”