“Do what you think best.” She saw a dark-haired man come round the corner of the house, check his stride when he noticed the new arrivals, and continue toward them slowly.

“Do you have any advice about dealing with featherheaded older brothers?” Ashk heard Breanna ask.

“Of course,” Rhyann replied cheerfully. “I’m very good at being a younger sister. I’ve been practicing all my life.”

Aiden grabbed Ashk’s arm, his blue eyes filled with alarm. Ashk just patted his hand and pulled away. “Do what you can, Bard.”

As she hurried back to her horse, she knew with absolute certainty that, no matter what mood the Huntress was in, by leaving Aiden to deal with annoyed barons and younger sisters, she was getting the better side of the bargain.

Aiden wondered how he was supposed to smooth things over and get a message to Lyrra that he needed her. Then he remembered the letter in his saddlebags—and the hawk.

Hurrying back to Minstrel, he made a “come here” gesture to the hawk. His stride faltered when he saw the hawk flutter to the ground and change into a man.

What had Falco been up to here that he felt comfortable enough to change form where outsiders could see him?

“Merry meet, Aiden,” Falco said, smiling but a bit wary, as if he anticipated criticism from someone he considered a friend.

“Merry meet, Falco,” Aiden replied. “I see you’ve become acquainted with the ladies here.”

Falco stiffened. “You’re not the only one who has a heart, Aiden. Breanna’s brother has no reason—yet—to believe in a Fae Lord’s ability to be loyal to a lover, but I thought you would understand since you and Lyrra—” He stopped. Looked away. “But it is different because you’re both Fae.”

Falco and Breanna? Aiden wisely hid the grin of delight that might be mistaken for mockery. “I take it her brother disapproves?”

“I can’t blame him,” Falco said quietly. “Not after—” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at Aiden. “Do you know where the Black Coats got their Inquisitor’s Gift of persuasion? Do you know where they got the power to draw magic from the land and twist it to create those nighthunter creatures?”

A chill went through Aiden as he shook his head.

“From us. They’re children we abandoned in the human world because they weren’t pure Fae. We enjoyed the women, both human and witches, and ignored the children we sired.”

“You don’t know that,” Aiden protested.

“Yes, I do. Varden’s men caught a Black Coat when Baron Liam’s home was attacked a few days ago. We’ve kept it among ourselves—so far—but we know, Aiden.”

Staggered, Aiden rubbed his hands over his face. “The Inquisitors came from Wolfram.”