I’m not even trying to convince myself that Old Jack’s dog holds some sentimental meaning. My dad lied to me, made a deal with the headmaster at the Academy to stop his brother, and then left me a clue that I couldn’t decipher myself. It’s like the person I’ve counted on my entire life, the one who’s always supported me and made me feel safe, suddenly decided to change his personality. I turn around, glare at the tin, and leave the room, hoping distance will lessen its impact.

Ash’s eyes light up when he sees me, and he stands. But a split second later his smile transforms into a questioning gaze. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” I say too brusquely.

For a second we just stand there.

I frown. “I just…I don’t know how my dad…”

“Could write you such a sparse note?” he offers.

“Exactly!” I say with a bit too much emphasis.

Ash takes a breath. “It’s more than likely he was being cautious, in the event that someone other than you found the note.”

I shake my head. “Let’s assume you’re right that he couldn’t leave me an address or a phone number; I can accept that. But what about…the rest? He could have said something else. Anything else.”

Ash nods like he understands what I’m not saying—that I needed more from my dad, a lot more. It’s like Aunt Jo used to say, it’s not enough to know you love someone, it’s important to let them know it.

“Do you want to talk—”

“No,” I say, shelving my hurt because it’s only going to make it harder to concentrate on what we have to do. “Not about that. Let’s just…why don’t you tell me about this pub we’re going to.”

“Wellll,” Ash says. “It’s all very civilized. There’s a no-killing rule.”

I raise an eyebrow, not convinced by his definition of civilized.

“If you attack someone here, you not only get banished from this inn, but from the entire group of properties like this one across Europe,” Ash continues. “And as you might imagine, these are something of a favorite among Strategia for trading information and, well, a dalliance here and there.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just use the word dalliance for hookup,” I say, and my frustration wavers.

“Upset that my vocabulary’s excellent and English isn’t even my first language?” he says, and grins.

I fight a smile and uncross my arms. “Don’t you dare try to be funny when I’m clearly in a mood.”

“It’s not my fault that you find me irresistibly charming,” he says.

Now I do smile. “Is that what you think?”