It certainly was.

Her phone dinged. She was silent for a few seconds while she read the message, then added to me, “I hope Frances’s refusal to catch you when you were felled hasn’t impaired your ability to walk, because that would be rather inconvenient.”

Frances being the rat shifter, no doubt. And while the idea of faking an injury to delay matters did have its appeal, they’d probably just resort to dragging me along by the hair. Caveman-style seemed right up these people’s alley.

“If the restrictions are holding, then why are you even here?”

“Because you allowed me to continue working and you underestimated my cunning.”

That was another truth I couldn’t deny. “If you’re talking about setting up a code word with Seryn to let her know whether you’d been magicked, I ordered you not to use it.”

“Yes. Trouble was, I was expecting you to do that and had a countermand installed.”

“Your mother,” I said.

“Yes.”

Meaning she’d been playing me from the moment I’d walked in that door—at least where Vincentia was concerned. It was a bitter realization that the only close family we had left had no qualms about betraying us.

I scanned the van again. There was nothing I could use as a weapon, nothing I could cut myself free with. I no longer had my phone, and I was mighty grateful that I’d left my backpack inside the hotel, even if it did leave me vulnerable to... The thought stalled. Fuck, had I been pixie magicked? Panic surged, but just as quickly died. I’d specifically ordered her not to do that, and she’d already said my restrictions were holding.

I’d find out the truth soon enough. “What’s the plan from here?”

“You’ll lead us to the sword, of course.” Her sniff was somewhat disparaging. “And then you will use the codex to find us the ring.”

And wasn’t her nose put out of joint over that little fact? Though in all truth, she was damn lucky they still considered her useful, otherwise she might have met the same fate as many of Seryn’s other contractors.

Another car approached ours, the crunch of tires on gravel abnormally loud on the still air. Wasn’t it fucking typical that the one time I desperately needed the presence of the wind, it was noticeably absent.

Doors slammed, then footsteps crunched toward us. The van’s rear door opened, and I raised my head. It was the rat shifter rather than Vincentia. Maybe the latter had realized getting close to me probably wasn’t a wise move right now.

The shifter grabbed my feet, hauled me toward her, then stood me upright. The night briefly whirled, and warmth trickled down the back of my neck. The madmen renewed their vigorous stabbing, and for a moment, I thought I was going to puke all over the shifter’s shiny gumboots.

Sadly, the urge went away.

Vincentia appeared around the corner of the van. Beside her was a thin woman I recognized even though I’d only seen her once before.