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Taking the girls to Denver turns out to be one of the best ideas I’ve ever had.

Of course, I worry about Silverville, but Kalen has promised to let me know if anything happens in the two days we’re gone.

Kalen and Felix are tailing Declan, trying to see if he has anything to do with the fires back home.

Kalen insisted that it would be best for me to get out of town—Declan might let down his defenses if I was away. Besides, we needed to pick up more ash to make the extinguisher for our packs, which we usually get from a source in the city.

Nora’s face lights up when we walk into the mall, and I take her store to store, buying her whatever she wants while Phina looks worried and runs her hand over her mouth each time I swipe my card.

For years, I’ve had all this money sitting in my accounts, and I’ve finally found something worthwhile to do with it.

When we hit the first store that’s not just for little girls, I touch a hand to Phina’s lower back and gesture for her to go in with Nora, who is already looking thoughtfully at some of the heels as if she would ever be able to wear any of them.

“Go on,” I say, indicating she should go into the store and look at some of the dresses. “You’ll need something to wear to dinner.”

“Xeran,” Phina whispers, turning her head to the side and glancing at me. Even under fluorescent lighting, she looks immaculate. Her blond hair is loose around her shoulders today in loose, bouncing curls. I resist the urge to reach out and tug on one as she says, “This is too much.”

“It’s not,” I say. “If you don’t pick something out, Phina, I’ll choose for you. Then we’ll both be hurting.”

She laughs and rubs her hands up and down her arms. She tentatively takes a step into the store, glancing back at me once more as if I might change my mind.

“Fine,” she relents. “But I am only getting one thing.”

Eleven more bags and the rest of the mall later, Phina and Nora each have a drink in their hands—some sort of tea with little balls at the bottom that I skipped in favor of a black coffee.

We’re heading back to the truck as they laugh and talk, Phina wearing one of the dresses she tried on straight out of the store.

I love the dress.

But I love the idea of taking it off her more.

Back at the truck, I throw their bags in the bed and pull the cover over, locking it up and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Alright,” I say as we emerge from the dark of the parking ramp and into the bright Denver sunshine. “Who’s hungry?”

“That depends,” Nora says, eyeing me after our conversation on Denver’s most well-known cuisines. “What are we having?”

Phina bursts into laughter at the idea that I might force us to go out and try Rocky Mountain oysters, and I steer the truck toward downtown, where I’ve booked us a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in town.

As we’re seated, I think about all the times I came with my dad here, eating at this very restaurant and talking to the Denver alpha supreme, a much older man with a lot more territory to worry about than us.

When my father started bringing me and none of my other brothers to those meetings, it only made tensions worse between us.

“Order whatever you want,” I say, watching as Phina’s eyes widen at the prices on the menu. It’s not like I could afford to—or would want to—eat here every day, but I’ve always felt comfortable spending a bit more on special occasions.

When the waiter comes, Nora says proudly, “I will not be having the oysters. I’ll have the chicken tenders, please.”

Phina and I share a look, and I wonder if I’m getting a taste of something I could have with them. Maybe even something I could have with them here, in Colorado, in Silverville. Trips to Denver together.

And maybe one day, I’d even be bringing Nora here to meet with the Denver alpha supreme, teaching her about diplomacy and the sharing of resources. Teaching her the same things my father taught me.

When the waiter walks away with our menus and I realize what I’ve just been thinking about, something hits me. I won’t be bringing Nora here and talking to her about being the alpha supreme if that’s not the role I occupy.

Once again, the wolf inside me bucks against my rib cage, insisting that it’s what I want. That I should challenge Declan and take the title.

But I left Silverville all those years ago because I decided fighting for it was the last thing I wanted.

“Steak for the gentleman,” the server says, breaking me out of my thoughts as he slides a plate in front of me.

I force myself to pay attention to Phina and Nora, to spend this time with them even as those ideas lurk in the back of my mind, waiting for their moment to come to the front again.

***

When we get back to the hotel, Phina surprises me by leaving Nora and me alone as she steps into the bathroom, saying the bathtub is too good for her not to take a bath.

It’s the first time she’s clearly and obviously left me with her daughter, and it tells me that something is changing. That she’s opening up to me. Starting to trust me.

And maybe if I show her that she can trust me more, she’ll get closer to telling me the truth about Nora.

Although, that could just be my own wishful thinking. A hope that Nora could still somehow belong to me, despite there being no evidence that she does.

Nora and I sit across from each other at the table, setting up the pieces for the new chessboard I got her while we were shopping. Pink and purple, it’s not exactly a traditional set, but I’d find myself thinking that it might look good in her bedroom.

If she had a bedroom, at my dad’s place.

My place.

“Xeran?”

I startle, nearly knocking over the king when Nora says my name softly, pulling me from my thoughts. When I look up and find her gaze, those intense eyes are on me.

The same color as mine. It’s impossible to ignore.

“Yes?” I ask, my heart starting to thud a bit harder as my instincts kick in, and I get the feeling that this conversation might be something serious. That Nora is about to tell me something important.

She’s quiet for a moment, adjusting her pawns so they’re all perfectly lined up. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Would she know if I was her father? How could she possibly know? Did she see my eyes reflected in her own, or did Phina tell her? Does Nora know who her father is? If it’s an alpha just moving through town, like Phina said? Has Nora ever met him?

“Of course,” I say, though maybe I shouldn’t respond like that. Maybe she shouldn’t be telling me secrets. But I can’t resist the idea of finding out more.

“My mom doesn’t know,” Nora says, picking up the box to the chessboard and setting it on the ground, then looking up at me with bright eyes. I realize that she reminds me of the little girl from Annie —both incredibly young and incredibly smart at once. Tough and scrappy. A fighter.

I feel like I should say something about making sure she’s safe, that she’s not keeping a secret from her mother that might harm her, but I can’t find the words before Nora speaks again.

“I can do it, too.”

“Do what?” I blink, watching her, wondering if this is about her first shift—but why would she keep that from her mother? Usually, it’s something worth celebrating.

She pauses, and I feel her anxiety radiating from her, her nervousness at telling me this. Then she raises her chin, meets my eye, and says, “I can do magic. Like my mom.”

Something happens inside me—something like dread, like worry, like denial.

I grew up believing that magic was wrong in every way.

That it was people harnessing the natural energy of the world and twisting it into unnatural shapes for their own sick pleasure.

That anyone with the ability to move and shape that magic was inclined toward malice, and those who used it were actively evil.

And here’s this girl, who I think might belong to me, sitting across from me sweetly, her hands trembling as she tells me this fact about herself.

“Are you… sure?” I finally manage to say, clearing my throat and laying my hands on the table. “Because you wouldn’t really know until—”

Keeping her eyes on mine, Nora moves. Not side to side but directly up, her body lifting from the chair as though someone has just grabbed her and lifted her up.

And she hasn’t even moved her hands—no flick of the wrist or visible casting, like with Phina.

I stare at Nora, my mouth going dry at the reality of what that means.

She can cast without any external sign of it at all.

Lowering back down into her seat, Nora says, “I haven’t told her because I think it would break her heart. She hates magic. And everyone around us—they were always mean to her because of it.”

Hypocritically, my wolf wants to rip apart the people who dared to be mean to Phina, to hurt her. Even as I have to acknowledge that, at one point, I was one of those people. At one point, I was one of the people who hurt her the most.

As we play, I find my gaze wandering back to Nora, watching as she considers the board and celebrates each time I make the move she thought I would. I watch her think as she worries her bottom lip.

And I find myself wondering if a girl like her—so young, and still so hurt by the world—could possibly be naturally oriented toward malice. Is it fair to assume that someone is evil just because of an ability they’re born with?

I find myself thinking of the humans and how they assume things of shifters—if they believe in them at all—simply because of the ways we can change our bodies. Is it not the same ignorance to be against magic for no other reason than it being different?

When the bathroom door opens and Phina emerges, wearing a pair of soft pajamas and smiling at us, Nora looks at me, panic flitting over her face.

Subtly, I nod to her. I’ll keep her secret.

Even if I still have no idea how I feel about it.