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“The answer is maybe.” Both her and her mother were cautionary tales.

The pain in Gregor’s eyes was evident. “I don’t want her to live like that.”

“There are ways to mitigate the risk.” Ava knew she was not exactly a good example of how to do that. She stepped up onto the bed and began to take down the boxes on the shelf above one at a time, flipping the lids open, searching through, and then putting them back in place as she went.

One of them held tea, and she hesitated before closing the lid. Hadn’t the Grimwaldian asked Sirna to give him the tea.

There was something about their exchange . . .

Another magical item, she would have to guess. Perhaps that’s how Sirna had kept the diplomats under his thrall for weeks.

And Sirna had said he had handed over all of it.

Even the Grimwaldian hadn’t known whether to trust him, but he’d been in too great a hurry to do anything else but take Sirna at his word.

Gregor was standing on the steps, leaning against the door as he watched her. His wide shoulders blocked the light, and she angled the box to get a better look inside.

“Is Melodie close by?” she asked.

Gregor narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“I’d like her to look at this.” She held out the box to him and he peered into it suspiciously and then shook his head.

“I don’t want to expose her to more of this.” Gregor’s mouth was a hard line.

She set the box down, climbed back up onto the bed to take down the next one without putting the one with the tea back in its place.

She thought about his words. Thought about the lengths her mother had gone to to keep her safe by refusing to teach her about her gift. And what good that had done her.

She balanced on the edge of the bed as she pulled off the lid to the next box and jerked away, wrinkling her nose at the putrid smell that rose up out of it. She was again forced to hop down and angle the box into the light that managed to filter past Gregor through the doorway. As she peered inside, he bent his head to have a look as well. “What ever you think you know about me, I’ll tell you this as one of the few things I know for sure.” She kept her voice soft and low. “The more Melodie learns to control and use her gift, the safer she’ll be. She can see the dangers in things that would trap other people. It will keep her safe, especially if she hones it.”

Gregor stepped back, almost overbalancing on the narrow steps. He looked at her for a long beat, then he turned his head. “Melodie! Come here, sweetling.”

Ava gave a nod of thanks. “What do you think this is?” She held out the box. She was afraid she knew, but hoped he had another explanation.

“A withered finger.” Gregor narrowed his eyes. “Not preserved in any way. Just left in a box.” He frowned. “Is this spell craft?”

“None that I’ve ever seen.” Ava had never heard of using body parts in spells. But then, she barely understood her own magic. Who knew what other kinds there were in the world. She put the lid back on and placed the box back where she’d found it. Took down the next one.

“And what do I do about you?” Gregor gripped the doorway with his big hands. “I can’t turn a blind eye to what Sirna and that sly piece of work Evelyn are doing to you. Not when what’s happening to you could happen to my own daughter.”

“Da?”

Gregor turned. “Sweetling. Come here.” He lifted her up into his arms and turned back to face Ava.

She stepped off the bed and lifted the box with the tea up. “What do you see in here?” Ava asked her.

“Bad things.” Melodie tucked her head under her father’s neck. She reached out a hand toward the box, then her chubby fingers curled and she clamped her closed fist up against her chest. “It’s like . . .” She tried to think of the words.

She was too little, Ava realized. She didn’t have the vocabulary, or the world experience, to understand everything she saw.

“Like what, my sweet?” Gregor was staring at the tea.

Melodie shivered, and Ava saw Gregor’s face harden. He didn’t appreciate Reckhart bringing people into his daughter’s orbit who were clearly dangerous.

“Like when you hurt yourself, like stubbing your toe, and then someone tells you it isn’t so bad. But it is so bad. It hurts, and they tell you it doesn’t, not really. They aren’t you, it’s not their toe, but they say you are the one who is wrong about how sore it is.” She was obviously remembering an incident, and still hadn’t let go of her resentment of whoever had dismissed her pain.

“Thank you, Melodie.” Ava met Gregor’s gaze. “Do you have a piece of cloth, or a handkerchief?”