“Yes. He also told me that Trent’s father cured your blood disease because your father was his friend. Don’t you think you owe him a debt of gratitude?”

Whoa. My breath caught, and I felt cold, not about the debt-of-gratitude thing, but that Keasley knew something I hadn’t until last solstice. “Keasley told you that?”

Ceri watched me over her teacup. Her head went up and down, nodding sharply.

My worried gaze went to the blue-curtained window above the sink and the sunlit garden beyond. I was going to have to have a talk with Keasley. “Trent’s father saved my life,” I admitted, bringing my attention back to her. “My dad and his were friends and work partners. And they both died because of it, so I think that rubs out any gratitude I might have.” Stupid-ass elf thinks the world owes him everything.

But Ceri only sipped at her tea. “Maybe Trent put you in the rat fights because he blames your father for his father’s death.”

I took a breath to protest, then slowly let it out. Crap. Is Trent as insecure as the rest of us? Smug, Ceri topped off her cup.

“Didn’t you blame him for the loss of your father?” she asked, unnecessarily, I might add.

“Yes,” I said, realizing that her putting it in past tense worked. I didn’t blame him anymore. Piscary had killed him—in a roundabout way. Somehow. Maybe. And if I was a good little witch and kept Trent’s little elf ass above the green, green grass during his wedding, he just might tell me the details. Giving myself a mental shake, I filed that away to think about later. “Do you want to meet him?” I asked tiredly, sounding oh so thrilled at the prospect.

Her remaining ire vanished, and she smiled from across the table. “Yes, please.”

Yes, please. As if she needed my okay. “You don’t need my permission.”

My tone was almost sullen, but she dropped her eyes demurely. “I want it.” She set her cup on the saucer with a clink. “I was raised with the expectation that someone would guide me in matters of the heart: a guardian and confidante. My mother and father are deceased. My kin has been diluted by time. You rescued my body, freed my soul. You are my Sa’han.”

I straightened in my chair as if ice had washed over me. “Whoa! Wait up, Ceri. I’m not your guardian. You don’t need one. You’re your own person!” Is she nuts?

Ceri set her feet on the floor and leaned forward, her eyes asking for understanding. “Please, Rachel,” she begged. “I need this. Being Al’s familiar tore everything from me. Give this piece of my life back to me? I need to resume ties to my old life before I can cut them and move into this one.”