“I always thought so,” I say quietly. But what I don’t say is that the real dilemma is Emily—I don’t see how it’s possible to be Emily’s best friend and be Strategia at the same time.

Ash watches me and I get the sense that he knows what I’m thinking.

“The one thing I’m not doing, though,” I say, forcing my thoughts away from Emily, “is just killing people all the time.”

Ash laughs so suddenly that it surprises even him, and he coughs. “November, no one wants you to kill people all the time. A surprising number of Strategia live peacefully, without ever harming anyone.”

“Says you,” I say. “But somehow I’ve killed two people in a month. And I’m just…that’s not who I am. I’m not going to do that.”

“First, you didn’t kill Dr. Conner,” Ash says. “You stabbed him, but only in self-defense, to save both our lives. Blackwood killed him. And second, I told you to break that branch; so Harry’s death is as much my fault as yours. Plus, there was no way to know that fall would kill him. The rock was unforeseeable.”

I hesitate, not sure I believe him, but also not sure he’s wrong. “And what about the Lions?” I say. “What’s the plan there? Because the way Aarya talks about it, it seems like she would take out the entire Family if she could.”

Ash sighs. “Let’s not forget that Aarya’s approach is usually unhinged. That being said—”

“I heard that!” Aarya says from the hallway, and appears in the door.

Ash gives her a scrutinizing look and I can almost see the gears in his head moving, adding eavesdropping to the list of reasons he doesn’t trust her.

“And if anyone’s approach is demented, it’s November’s,” Aarya says.

“Because I don’t like the idea of killing people?” I reply.

“Because Jag killed your mother. He killed your aunt. He effectively killed Felix’s dad by sending him after your parents. He killed Stefano by proxy. And at this very moment he’s trying to kill you and your father. Not to mention the countless number of other innocent people whose lives he’s ruined,” Aarya says with feeling.

I stare at her.

“So you go right ahead with your nicey-nicey crap,” she says. “But me? If I get any kind of chance, no matter how small, I’m killing him. And I will dance on his grave.” Then she turns around without another word and slams her bedroom door behind her.

For a second we’re both silent.

“I’m not really sure what to say after that,” I confess.