His lips curled into a shadow of his usual smile. “Not as surprised and four times as pleased as my compatriots, I vow.”

“You’ve been reading The Lord of the Rings again,” I said, and he grunted.

“So the people ruling the reservation these days don’t know you’re here and would be upset to know it,” I said. “Why are you here?”

“Not to interfere with your rash protection of the Fire Touched,” he said in an overly loud voice obviously intended to reach the far ends of the house—and Aiden’s ears. Then, in a much softer voice, he said, “One of my flitflits told me that she’d heard that the Dark Smith and his boy were on the bridge with you yesterday. I discounted it until I heard that the Fire Touched escaped and that he was under the protection of the pack. My news sources aren’t as reliable as they once were, but it was not hard to connect both stories.” He flexed his short fingers and put them down on his knees, leaned forward, and said, “Several weeks ago, I was told that the Dark Smith had been executed for failure to cooperate sufficiently, and also that his son died soon after—half-bloods being so much more fragile than we.”

“The fae cannot lie,” I told him, wondering what a flitflit was. I puzzled over it too long and missed my cue, though.

He’d relaxed as soon as I’d spoken, and I realized I’d pretty much given away Zee’s still-alive status by not freaking out when Uncle Mike said he’d heard that he was dead.

“Yes, we cannot lie,” he said. “And after I heard the stories, I thought on what I was told and by whom. I think that the one who told me believed what she said, and the one who told her was cunning with his words—as his reputation leaves him to be.”

“Zee’s alive,” I told him. “And what’s a flitflit?”

And even though he had known that from my reaction, he still drew in a deep breath as if he hadn’t had many deep breaths in a long time. “And so it is true.”

“And if it is?” asked Zee from the stairway, his voice arctic.

Uncle Mike smiled. This time it was the full-force, hugely charismatic smile that made the part of me that detected magic sit up and take notice. “Well, then,” he said, satisfaction lacing his voice. “Some people are going to be looking over their shoulders, now, aren’t they?”

Zee tipped his head to the side. “That is an interesting notion. I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you, now,” said Uncle Mike in evident satisfaction. “Just don’t you, old friend.”

“What,” I asked again, “is a flitflit?”