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My path took me to the patio wrapping around the back of the house. I was lost in my thoughts and didn’t notice Roman sitting at one of the tables until I was nearly next to him.

“You look smug,” he said. I jumped. He chuckled. He took a drink from a mug. The smell from where I stood was of coffee, but there was a silver flask on the table next to him. “Not that I blame you. You’ve landed yourself in the lap of luxury, haven’t you?”

“Not by choice,” I reminded him. Maybe I was feeling bold after Bryony agreed to come tonight, or maybe I was just sick of his unconcealed hostility, but something in me snapped. “If I’d turned it down, you wouldn’t be getting anything, right? So maybe lay off me.”

He grunted in what was almost agreement. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it? One crazy old man screwing everyone over for some girl he never even really knew.”

I was done listening to Roman whine. “I’m going to go inside now,” I said. He lurched to his feet, his chair scraping along the flagstones. He was way too close to me—close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. I’d been right about what was in that coffee. I glared up at him. I wasn’t going to let this drunk idiot intimidate me. Shadow monsters and the Folded, sure. But not Roman Vaughan.

“Caleb thinks we just have to give you time,” Roman said. His voice was a rumble in his chest. “But you know what? Maybe it would be easier just to start over.” He grinned as the implication sunk in. Start over. With a new heir. Meaning, when I was dead.

“You mind taking a step back there?”

Simon was coming down the steps. His normally amiable voice was steely. Relief flooded through me. Simon. That meant Mom was here, too, and I wasn’t alone anymore.

“Ah. It’s the boyfriend,” Roman said, sneering his way through the last word.

Simon sighed. “Is this the part where we thump our chests and paw the ground? Is there some kind of hooting involved? Do you want me to find you a log to rip in half? I’m a bit out of touch on the current means of establishing masculine credentials.” He walked over as he spoke, smiling blandly. “Or you could just go back to your day drinking and stop being an asshole.”

Roman punched him. I cried out, but he must have been drunker than I thought because, even as I yelled, Roman’s fist was swinging through empty air shy of Simon’s face. The motion took him off-balance, and he stumbled.

“There’s no call for that,” Simon said, looking taken aback.

Roman swore, staring at Simon like he was some kind of ninja.

“Come on, Helen,” Simon said, putting out his hand. I grabbed it, and we hustled up the steps, leaving Roman looking vaguely befuddled behind us.

“Nice timing,” I told him, voice shaky.

“That man is unstable,” Simon said, his brow creased with concern. “Are you okay?”

“He was just being a—jerk,” I said, saving myself from some very not-Simon-rated language at the last minute. I looked at him with concern. “At least he didn’t try to deck me. Lucky he was drunk.”

“I thought I was in for a broken jaw,” Simon admitted. “It seemed like...”

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Just, it seemed like he was going to hit me, and thenit was like I was standing farther back than I’d thought. Must just be tired from the drive,” Simon said.

“Tired from being chauffeured around, you mean?” Simon’s explanation didn’t quite add up. Had Harrow—no, theOther—done something? But why would it protect Simon?

Maybe it just wanted to mess with Roman. That would be deeply understandable.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. A grown man without a driver’s license. It’s not my fault I grew up with decent public transit and a raging anxiety disorder, you know.”

I chuckled, but the sound withered. “Simon, were you with Mom the whole time at home?”

“Not every second,” he said, brow creased. “Why?”

“So you weren’t back here? A few days ago?” I knew I’d seen him. Hadn’t I?

“How would I have even gotten here, Scout?”

We’d reached the doors, and Mom came bursting through, arms open. I forgot all about Roman for a few blissful seconds as I rested my head against her chest.

“Missed you,” I confessed. She stroked my hair.

“Well, we’re all done with that nonsense. I’m all yours again,” she said. She pulled away, examining me. “Are you all right? You look... I don’t know. Thin.”