Leelo glanced at Aunt Ketty, who was scowling, but Fiona nodded in encouragement. She must have decided this was a safe space to discuss Isola and her family. Leelo had been busy with her Watcher duties and trying to spend time with Tate, but she made a point of walking at least an hour every day with Isola, just to ensure she got outside.

“She’s still sad, obviously. But I think she’s doing a little better.”

“What was Rosalie thinking?” Mrs. Harding whispered to Fiona. “Allowing her daughter to ruin their family like that?”

“I don’t think Rosalie knew,” Fiona said.

“Really, now. We would know if our daughters were...” She trailed off as her eyes met Leelo’s. “You know.”

“It’s Pieter’s parents I feel sorry for,” Mr. Harding said. His voice was a deep rumble, reminding Leelo of distant thunder. “They didn’t even know their son was back on the island. Isola kept him well hidden somewhere, but she won’t reveal the location.”

Leelo’s ears perked up at this news. She had wondered how Isola had managed to keep Pieter a secret in her own house. A flash of memory—Pieter’s muscled torso, Isola’s screams—swam up, and Leelo swallowed thickly. She glanced at Sage, who was busy watching Hollis. He was too busy eating his second slice of pie to notice.

Sage looked away from Hollis and turned her eyes on Leelo. “They put their feelings before Endla,” she said in a flat voice. “They deserved their fates.”

Mrs. Harding laughed uncomfortably, Fiona frowned, and Aunt Ketty, who hadn’t touched a bite of her pie, nodded.

“The wolf is always at the doorstep,” she said ominously. “That is why we Watch.”

Chapter Twelve

Jaren would have just as soon forgotten about Endla altogether, but a bet was a bet, and he was forced to prove he’d been to Lake Luma with the vial of water. Lars did the honors of placing a rose into the vial, making a bit more of a show of it than seemed necessary.

For a moment, Jaren was afraid nothing would happen and he’d be humiliated in front of the entire village, but a few seconds later, the stem began to shrivel up and turn black. As the poison rose, the bottom of the stem started to disintegrate, and by the time the crimson petals had withered and blackened, the stem was gone. The flower head fell onto the table, where it crumbled to ash and blew away.

Even Merritt seemed impressed, though slightly disappointed he wouldn’t have the opportunity to beat Jaren to a pulp. But at least he’d walked away to the bar, leaving Jaren with Lars, his body blessedly intact.