Two hours later, we''re back in Sister Miriam''s strange mansion, just outside of the Fae Ward.


    We all try calling people again, but nothing but voicemails answer us.


    Selene rolls against the cool floor, groaning in relief. So much easier to breathe here. Pity. I do like it there.


    "Sorry." Watching her writhe around to soothe her itchy skin gives me something to do while we wait for Sister Miriam''s arrival.


    Layla is back, hunched over a pile of papers she dragged with her, marking through various papers with terrifying efficiency. I''m not even sure if she''s reading what''s on the pages. Just flip, sign, flip, flip, sign.


    Every so often she sets one to the side after writing REJECTED in large letters at the top of the page.


    "Their language is fascinating," Vanessa murmurs, also watching the gnome work.


    "Language?" Startled, I glance at the healer. "She hasn''t said a word."


    Our whispers echo through the room. It''s impossible for Layla not to hear everything we''re saying, yet we continue to whisper.


    "Her writing," she corrects me. "Those letters—you called them runes?—are so interesting. She writes them so quickly, but they''re so intricate and detailed."


    Glancing at the papers again, I squint my eyes.


    It takes a while for me to realize that Layla is, in fact, writing in the strange language of theirs, and not in English.


    That can''t be possible. I''m reading everything she''s writing with such ease, as though it were already in English. How?


    Affinity, Selene explains with a yawn. You''ve accessed your magic. You''ve gained an understanding of the language it encompasses.


    How is that possible? Unlock magic and an entire language just appears in your head?


    Precisely.


    I''d ask Magister Orion a few questions if he was here, but he''s not, so I shelve them for now. It''s a strange thing, but not nearly as important as what we''re here for.


    The sharp click of heels against the floor announces Sister Miriam''s arrival before she even enters the room. Selene, who''s been rolling around on the floor, suddenly sits up straight, her posture prim and proper. I can''t help but smile at her antics.@@@@


    My amusement fades quickly as Sister Miriam steps into view. I blink, taken aback by her appearance. Gone are the vintage dresses I''ve grown accustomed to seeing her in. Instead, she''s wearing a loose shirt and jeans. It''s so... normal.


    So un-Sister Miriam-like that for a moment, I wonder if this is some sort of illusion.


    Her grim words only cement the foreboding in my heart, but I ask, "Why?"


    Sister Miriam''s sigh breaks the tense silence, her gaze softening slightly as she looks at Selene. The change in her demeanor is subtle, but noticeable.


    "My information network," she begins, her voice measured, "operates independently of wolves or the city. These are individuals loyal only to me."


    I feel a chill run down my spine at her words. Just how extensive is her reach?


    "I have priority on information from both Blackwood and Westwood," she continues. "Yet, I''ve received no word of any attacks. This can only mean one thing: someone has either infiltrated or destroyed my network. And if that''s the case, I''m working blind."


    Her red eyes lock onto mine, piercing and intense. "Who, Ava, would be interested in keeping me out of this situation?"


    The answer comes to me instantly. "Alpha Renard," I blurt out.


    Sister Miriam shakes her head, a look of disdain crossing her features. "No, he''s far too stupid to orchestrate something like this."


    Her dismissal of one of the strongest alphas in the Northwestern Territories should bring me some satisfaction, but I''m too focused on the puzzle in front of me. If not him, then who?


    "Who lost their toy?" Sister Miriam asks, her tone cryptic.


    The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.


    Lisa.


    "The Mad Prince," I whisper, feeling the blood drain from my face.


    Sister Miriam''s grimace confirms my worst fears. "He was supposed to be chasing his prey for longer," she mutters. "Something must have happened."


    Marcus interjects this time. "What are you saying?"


    Sister Miriam''s explanation sends ice through my veins. "The Mad Prince has an obsession with those blessed by the Fae. Their blood increases his power." She pauses, her eyes distant. "His life''s goal has always been to create a harem of Fae-touched thralls to give him power. But very few of his prisoners have survived his... unique torments."


    My heart shatters at the implications. What has Lisa been through, because it took so long to save her?


    Sister Miriam''s voice softens slightly, perhaps sensing my distress. "Since he enjoys playing with his food, it''s likely she was only mildly harmed before I lured him away with something he would have found irresistible."


    Hope flickers in my chest, fragile but persistent. "Is that irresistible thing real?" I ask, desperate for any shred of good news.


    Sister Miriam''s smile sends shivers through my body. It''s not comforting; it''s predatory, full of secrets and hidden meanings.


    "Oh, it''s very real," she purrs, her eyes glinting with an emotion I can''t quite place. "And far more dangerous than the Mad Prince could ever imagine."