Is that true? I wonder. After queen’s ransom and Roundtable, this is probably like a reality television show. Anyone within a one-mile radius can feel the tension coming off us. They’re probably waiting for a fight to break out.

Speaking of tension, I feel Shy against my back. His arm is wrapped around my waist like the hook of a scythe. There’s a brief moment when I want to reach behind me, snake my hand around his neck, and kiss him, but that yearning feels like a distant memory. Reality is, someone posted my past on Roundtable, and these are two of the four people I haven’t ruled out. Besides, I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that the Order killed Lennon’s mother.

I place my hands on Shy’s arm and pry it loose, stepping out of his embrace. When I turn to face him and Natalie, his jaw tightens.

“You didn’t have to embarrass her,” I say.

“She embarrassed you,” Natalie says defensively.

“You’ll turn your back on anyone, even your so-called friends,” I tell her.

Natalie’s brows shoot up, but her surprise at my words doesn’t last long before she decides she’s angry with me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I start to speak, to accuse her of the Roundtable post, but Shy stops me. “We’re not here to argue.”

“Anora’s had a rough day,” Lennon says. “She doesn’t need this.”

“We’re not here to talk to Anora.” Shy doesn’t look at me. He’s looking at Lennon. So is Natalie. What’s going on here?

“Oh?” Lennon mocks. “And what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Why don’t we step outside,” Shy suggests.

For a moment, I don’t think Lennon will agree, but she maintains this unsettling smirk as we exit, stepping into the cool, fall air.

“What’s this about?” I ask, but Shy and Natalie pretend I’m not there.

“Where were you last night, Lennon?” Natalie asks.

“Why don’t you just accuse me of whatever you’re going to accuse me of and get it over with?”

“Someone tell me what’s going on,” I demand, angry I’m being ignored.

Shy’s gaze cuts to me. “Lennon stole your coin. You watched Anora capture Vera’s soul, didn’t you? Swooped in and stole it in raven form. Did you kill Lily too?”

I look from Shy to Lennon. She’s emotionless and cold, but I expect that. She was just accused of murder. The problem is, I don’t know who to believe, so I ask for the only thing I can, though my voice rasps as I do, as if in protest. “Do you have proof?”

“What?” Shy’s question is sharp and surprised; it tangles my chest and makes me feel wrong.