“It would certainly explain why we keep running into spellcasters.” I hesitated, wondering if Lugh would mention that Rogan—his boss at the museum—was a spellcaster of some repute and possibly a good place to start asking questions. Not that I thought he’d be involved in this plot. Aside from the fact the man had never lost anyone to the Annwfyn as far as we were aware, he wanted the Claws for the museum. It was his life and his one true love. But Lugh remained silent, so I added, “Do you think Maran Gordon could be the brains behind it all?”

Maran was a spellcaster who not only specialized in the theft of antiquities but ran a profitable sideline in concealment and body morphing spells. She was also the bitch who’d fire-bombed the tavern. I’d given chase on the night but had basically ended up walking right past her when she’d cast the morphing spell aside and resumed her normal form.

“It’s possible, but unlikely,” Cynwrig said. “Maran doesn’t get involved in anything unless there’s a major monetary payday behind it.”

“But she’d know who hired her,” Lugh said. “All we have to do is find her.”

“That is the problem of our lifetime,” Cynwrig said. “My family has been trying for decades, and the IIT have an active arrest warrant out. She has neatly evaded all of us.”

“Not really surprising, if she magically alters her form at will,” I said.

“Yes, but no caster can maintain a false identity for more than a few hours; it simply taxes their bodies too much. It’s more a case of the spellcaster community being small but insular in Deva. They protect their own.”

“They’re hardly the only ones doing that,” Lugh commented.

Cynwrig shot him a hard glance. “I don’t like the implication behind that comment.”

“And yet it’s a truth you don’t deny.”

Cynwrig raised an eyebrow, and it somehow conveyed cold amusement, even if his expression remained friendly. “Tell me, would you have so readily cooperated with the IIT if it had been revealed your mother was behind the theft of the hoard?”

“That is a stupid question, given we both know Mom spent her life trying to find stolen artifacts,” Lugh snapped. “But seeing we’re firing them at each other, did you inform Sgott that you’ve found Jalvi? Or are you intending to track her down and talk to her first?”

“Speaking of Jalvi,” I said hurriedly, wanting to cut the deepening argument off, “do you think she’ll be able to tell us who’s actually running the Claws search? Because she’s acting more like a soldier than a leader.”

Cynwrig’s gaze cut to mine and, just for a moment, there was nothing except cool distance in those silvery depths. It was yet another reminder that I needed to tread a little more cautiously with this man. No matter how well I knew him physically, he very much remained a stranger.

Then he blinked, and warmth returned. It didn’t in any way ease the slight tremor of ... not unease. Wariness, perhaps.