A cool smile touched her lips. “I’m guessing you also ordered her not to answer any of my questions.”

“The less you know, Aunt, the safer you’ll be.”

I slung my purse over my shoulder, then motioned her to lead the way out. She opened the door and then said, her expression a mix of frustration and grief, “Tell me, when your mother was murdered, did they take the Eye? Is that why Tia couldn’t find it?”

I collected my coat and then looked at her. There was something in the way she worded those questions that made me think she was not as unknowing as she’d have me believe. “Yes.”

Which was nothing other than the total truth, but I was mighty grateful she hadn’t asked if it had been found since then. As has been noted by multiple people, I wasn’t the world’s greatest liar.

“Then why do you have the knives? Meabh rarely went on a hunt without them.”

“She left them behind. I don’t know why because I never got the chance to talk to her before she left.”

Never got the chance to say good-bye or tell her that I loved her.

And now I never would.

I blinked and looked down at my shoes to get the damn tears under control again. “What about close contacts? Has Vincentia any friends or boyfriends she’s likely to contact or stay with?”

She gave me a couple of names, then added softly, “If Vincentia does contact me, I’ll let you know. But she hasn’t for months now, so don’t be expecting miracles.”

There was an edge of hurt in her voice, and sympathy stirred. But only briefly. If she hadn’t built her entire world around Vincentia after her son’s death and, in the process, filled her head with all sorts of half-truths, then maybe she wouldn’t be in the trouble she was now in.

I forced a smile. “I gave up expecting miracles a long time ago.”

I was out the door and about to step from under the cover of the porch when I realized I hadn’t asked one of the questions that had driven us here.

I turned and said, “Lugh tells me that just before you left Deva, you and Mom were arguing over an old, leather-bound book.”

She raised a pale eyebrow, her expression cooling. “What has that got to do with the current situation?”

“Did you take it when you left Deva?”

“And what if I did? The goddesses’ gifts were never meant to be sole property of the firstborn female child.”

“Family tradition would say otherwise.”

“Traditions can change, especially now that my sister is dead and there’s only seconds between your birth and Tia’s,” she said. “You have the knives. It is only fair my daughter retains the codex.”

But Mom was older than my aunt, and that’s what actually mattered. It was Mom’s firstborn daughter who inherited the Triune, not my aunt’s.

“Meaning she can use it?” If she could, then it was also possible she could use the Eye. Or maybe the Triune could be used by those who weren’t the firstborn in our line.