“So your brother’s in on this, too, then?” I asked, glancing at Linden.

“Of course,” she replied steadily. “You know how it is with me and Rowan. He knows how . . . how I’ve been feeling. And he’s been itching to turn the tables on Gareth since I told him what happened.”

“How long have you two been cooking this up, anyway?” I demanded. “Actually, hold up—is that why you were at the Cauldron last night, Talia? To feel out whether I might be game?”

The idea of it bothered me in an indistinctly twinging way, hitting somewhere been embarrassment and hurt. If she’d been there only for strategy’s sake, then that unexpected, glimmering spark between us couldn’t have been anything more than a figment of my imagination.

“Believe it or not, that was a happy coincidence,” Talia answered with a shrug, and I relaxed a little. “Courtesy of whatever elder gods look kindly upon me, I’m assuming. I’ve been toying with this idea since the summer, and Linden and I were planning on an alliance regardless. But with you on board? This would play out perfect.”

I tilted my head from side to side, still not quite convinced, tapping my fingertips against my upper arms.

“What’s the hesitation, Harlow?” Talia prodded, leaning over the table and fixing me with that disconcerting stare.

“Honestly? I’m not sure it’s worth all this effort, just to keep Gareth Blackmoore from taking home yet another trophy, even a major one like this. I don’t love the idea of being so focused on him.” I thought back to last night, the effortless ease with which Gareth had unbroken my glass. “Especially if he’s still likely to win no matter what.”

Talia’s gray eyes narrowed, gaze intensifying until I could almost feel its weight alighting on me like some tangible, predatory force. Something with talons, and a very wide wingspan.

“Listen,” she said, interlacing her fingers on the table. “We all know Gareth’s likely to get the win anyway. But just think . . . how fucking satisfying would it be to see him squirm, make him look bad in front of everyone? Can you imagine how much it would sting, getting his ass handed to him at even one challenge?”

“You do have a point there,” I conceded.

“I sure as shit do, Harlow. That entitled dickhead has sailed through his whole life with a silver spoon in his mouth, getting exactly what he wanted at every turn. Including the three of us. So let’s not let him have this, too.”

I flicked between Lin’s pained expression and Talia’s stormy eyes, struggling to keep abreast of my own tumbling thoughts. Gareth had stripped the three of us of so much, stolen from us like a thief. My future in Thistle Grove, Linden’s faith in love conquering all, Talia’s . . .

Well, maybe he’d only dinged Talia’s pride. But the Avramovs put a lot of stock in their pride, something I keenly understood, and the casually deceptive way he’d treated sleeping with her had clearly stuck in her craw.