Allie knew Charlie loved her. That wasn’t the problem. “Jack’s Uncle Adam said that to me once.”

“The Dragon Lords are arrogant, overbearing, and homicidal, but they’re not stupid.”

“And what about Jack? He’s Wild. What happens when he accepts . . .”

“He’s always known.” Shaking her head, Auntie Gwen handed Edward his sippy cup. “Charlotte was raised knowing she was different. She had to find out what that meant on her own. Jack was raised as a prince. He knew what being Wild meant long before Charlotte told him what we call it here.”

“But he wasn’t Wild there . . .”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Alysha, think about that for a moment. As a sorcerer and a half Gale, he stood separate from that family as well. Flew separate,” she amended after a moment.

Allie set a bowl of oatmeal in front of Evan and another in front of Edward—the trays of their high chairs charmed to hold the bowls in place. “You didn’t answer me. You didn’t tell me why you didn’t ask what they were hiding.”

“Because, bottom line, as much as he’s like no Gale that’s ever been, Jack is a Gale. As much as she’s a little too fond of the end justifying the means, Catherine is a Gale. And Charlotte, who could make us believe whatever was easiest for her but doesn’t, is a Gale. Even for the Wild Powers, family comes first.”

Allie could see that, as far as Auntie Gwen was concerned, that was that.

She wanted to believe that was enough, that the secret Charlie and Jack were hiding would come second to family, but she didn’t. Not quite. How could they keep secrets and still put family first?

It didn’t help when, after breakfast, Charlie announced she’d be leaving for a few hours.

“Why?”

“I’ve got some things to do, Allie-cat.” She turned from setting a stack of dirty dishes on the counter and spread her hands. “People to see.”

Allie knew that grin. It had nothing to do with humor or pleasure or anticipation and everything to do with deflection. But not this time. “Who?”

“What difference does it make?”

Allie lifted Evan out of the chair and folded her arms as he raced for his brother, already freed. “It makes a difference because I asked and you’re not telling me.”

“I don’t tell you everything I do, Allie.” The grin was gone, leaving Charlie looking both more and less like herself, the familiar caught in an overlay of other. Then Allie blinked, and she was Charlie again. Charlie, who didn’t come to bed last night. Charlie, who put Jack back into his seat with a glance. Jack who was Wild like Charlie was Wild.

“I don’t ask about everything you do,” Allie said softly and knew Charlie heard the reason. Please, don’t lie to me.