“A clue that I couldn’t decipher without your help,” I reply.

But Ash only shakes his head. “Like I said, my family has been coming here for years; Angus likely knows who I am, what Family I belong to. Me being part of your conversation would upset the whole plan. No one here knows you. Your very best shot at getting the information you need is to talk to him alone.”

I hear his words, but I’m having trouble accepting them. It’s not like I want Ash to hold my hand, but navigating the European Strategia world by myself with zero experience sounds like a recipe for disaster. The students at the Academy were impossible enough; how am I supposed to handle the adults?

I look up at Angus, who is currently searching his pocket for something, and my worry heightens. Is he looking for his wallet? Is he ready to leave? Because the only thing worse than blindly initiating a conversation with him would be chasing him down in the parking lot in this confining dress.

I stand up before I can talk myself out of it. Ash’s eyes widen ever so slightly and I know him well enough by now to tell that I’ve shocked him by making a move before we could discuss the details. But I can’t sit back down, not with all these Strategia watching. They’ll immediately know that I’m nervous and that there’s something wrong or unusual about my behavior.

So instead, I murmur “Wish me luck,” with all the resolve I can muster.

I hold my head high and walk my most confident walk all the way to the bar, sliding onto the empty stool next to Angus. At which point I see what he had been searching his pocket for—a toothpick. He sticks it in his mouth and idly chews.

I momentarily look back at Ash, who is slipping into a seat at one of the communal tables and joining the conversation like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I turn back to the bar to find a bartender standing in front of me.

“Menu, miss?” he says in a Scottish accent.

“Yes, please,” I say, happy to have something to focus on besides my nerves. It only takes me a quick glance before I spot what I want. “I’d love some potato and leek soup, creamy mash, and sticky toffee pudding with honeycomb ice cream.”

Angus turns slightly and raises a wild eyebrow. “So you’re having potatoes with your potatoes?” His voice is raspy and a bit abrasive.

I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or worried that he spoke to me first. For starters, I haven’t had time to consider what my strategy will be. But I turn to Angus with my most ladylike expression. “And dessert, of course…otherwise it wouldn’t be a well-rounded meal.”