Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying. About having good dreams or about remembering them, Ava? Hmm?”

“Why are you still here?” Anger spiked through her sadness. “You can leave now.”

“Fine.” He stood, his eyes never leaving hers. “Get dressed. Get washed up. I’ll meet you downstairs. We have someplace to go.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

He rolled his eyes before he turned. When he got to the door, Rhys called over his shoulder. “Don’t create a scene, darling. Wouldn’t you rather keep a low profile before you try to sneak off?”

Bastard scribe. He always saw too much.

Ava decided to act like the interlude in her bedroom hadn’t even happened when she finally made her way downstairs. Rhys was at the counter, speaking with Orsala. It sounded like they were debating the interpretation of some story or myth.

“But the St. Petersburg manuscript—”

“Manuscripts?” Orsala said. “Manuscripts are always influenced by the scribe. There is no avoiding it. What you must look for is the common thread running through all the historical accounts. That is where the truth lies.”

Rhys shook his head. “I… I can’t believe you’re discounting the oldest known account of Deandra’s vision. Carbon dating has placed that manuscript within a hundred years of her life. No other existing document comes close.”

“But that is only one document. You must look at more than just the documents, Rhys. You must—”

“This sounds like an argument that can’t be won,” Ava said with a false smile. “Hey, Orsala. I see you met Rhys.”

She smiled until her eyes creased. “Such fun to debate with a knowledgeable partner. I met Rhys’s mother many years ago. She would be proud of his good mind.”

Ava saw the blush at Rhys’s neck, but she ignored it and said, “I heard we have some place to go?”

He nodded and finished the cup of coffee in front of him. “Sari and Damien are over at Max’s house. During the day, the Grigori activity seems to be slow. I thought we’d head over for lunch.”

“Sure. Why not? Orsala, you want to come?”

“I have something to speak to Lang about when he wakes, then I believe I will spend some time with Brooke and Candace.” She smiled and patted Rhys’s shoulder. “Conversation with the young is a joy to the old.”

“Okay.” She nodded toward the door. “I’m ready when you are.”

He stood and grabbed a jacket that was lying over the back of a chair. They walked to the door and Rhys grabbed her hand, bending down to speak quietly in her ear.

“I’m sorry about before. In your room. Your dreams are none of my business, Ava.”

She didn’t want to think about her dreams. Or his apology. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. We all grieve in our own way. I just hope… I hope you’ll be better soon.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Rhys smiled, and there was a knowing gleam in his eye. “I think you’ll be more than fine.”

She opened the door and walked out into the glowing white of the street. It was cold—according to Orsala—even for Oslo. It usually didn’t reach the lowest temperatures until later in the winter.

“Just lucky for me, I guess,” she muttered to herself.

“What?” Rhys closed the door, testing to make sure it was locked.

“Nothing.” She heard the complicated alarm system Lang had tried to explain to her beep in their wake before she and Rhys started walking.

“Do you have a car?”

“It’s at Max’s. They dropped me off earlier. We can catch a taxi up the street. It’s not far.”

They walked in silence, the air frosting their breath as Ava tucked her scarf closer around her neck. Something itched under her skin. She’d noticed it that morning in the shower. It was almost as if she could feel her mating marks moving. The skin along her spine and neck crawled with energy. It wasn’t painful, just an awareness of the marks he had left on her. The marks that would never go away. She wondered if she would feel them less and less as the years went by. Maybe, if she wasn’t around other Irin, she wouldn’t notice them as much.

Rhys walked in silence. Suspicious, she opened her mind. His inner voice was a confused jumble, but she could pick out a few words. Her knowledge of the Old Language was growing.

Stop.

Pain.

Malachi.

Mate.

Malachi.

Malachi.

Malachi.

Her soul welled in grief at the sound of his name. Rhys’s thoughts circled until she locked down her mind with a few whispered words.

“What?” He looked down.

“Sorry. You were… loud.”

He blinked at her, startled. “And you used a spell to shut me out. You can understand my thoughts now?”

“Not much. Just… It’s never the way people think, you know? Now that I can understand bits of the Old Language, I realize people don’t think in complete sentences. Or their souls don’t, I guess. It’s more like… impressions. A word here or there. A phrase. It’s more emotion than distinct thoughts.”

“Oh.” He turned at the corner and headed toward a taxi stand. It was the middle of the week and traffic was light, but it still took a few minutes for a car to show up. They slid in the back and Ava rubbed her hands together, happy to be in the heat again.

Rhys leaned forward. “Pardon me. English?”

“Of course.”

He gave the driver an address, then sat back and looked at her. Then he looked away and stared out the window.

“I know you’re worried about me, Rhys.”

“You have no idea.”

“I’m fine. Really. This is normal, right?” She tried to explain it in a way that would leave him unconcerned about her future. “Like you said, we all grieve in different ways. This is a step. It’s hard for me to be around you, because you remind me of… Malachi.” She forced herself to use his name. “That will pass in time. God knows, I’m not the only woman in the world to lose a partner. I’ll be fine.”

She was surprised when he grabbed her hand.

“Just… wait,” he said. “Don’t shut down on me. Don’t draw away.”

The intensity of his voice rocked her. What was going on? Did Rhys have feelings for her? There had been a flirtation at the beginning, but she could have sworn they were past it.

“Rhys, you know I only think of you as a friend, right?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I mean, yes, of course I know—”

“I’m not even thinking of anyone that way right now. I can’t.” Her concern for him broke through her resolve. The last thing she needed was to break a friend’s heart before she cut him—all of them—out of her life. “And I don’t want you to think—”

“Ava!” He pressed his lips together when he saw the driver looking back at them suspiciously. “I’m not talking about my feelings for you. Which are only of friendship, of course. I’m talking about—”

“Then what’s all the talk about me shutting down and drawing away?”

“I just…” He almost looked as if he was in pain. “There are some things… some mysteries—”

“Here!” The car jerked to a halt in front of a large, modern apartment building. The driver looked at Ava. “Are you getting out with him, miss? Or can I take you to another address?”

Ava smiled at his concern. “I’m fine here. Thank you.”

Rhys paid the driver and slid silently from the car, holding out a hand to help her on the icy sidewalk. As the taxi pulled away, he put both hands on her shoulders and dipped his head down to meet her eyes.

“There are some magics—some destinies—we can only guess at. As much as I study, as much as I revere science and strive to be a rational scholar, I can never forget this. We are”—he let out a rueful laugh—“descended from angels, Ava. There are some mysteries only heaven knows. Remember that.”

She frowned. “I know.”

“Remember that.”

“Will you just tell me what the hell is going on, Rhys? I’m starting to worry.”