Page 26 of Magic Claimed

“Breakfast it is.” Kira hesitated, then squared her shoulders, walked straight up to the former dragon queen, and gave her an awkward hug. “It really is good to see you”—her lips quirked into an almost evil grin—“Grandma.”

Tairen froze. I wasn’t sure whether it was from the hug or the “Grandma,” but it took about three seconds for her to recover sufficiently to place stiff arms around her daughter’sshoulders in return.

“I’m happy to see you as well. Be careful. And remember… you still have enemies. Do not let your guard down, and do not hesitate to call if you are in trouble.”

Kira winked. “It’s nothing Raine and I can’t handle. You can save your safety lectures for big brother Callum. I suspect he probably needs them more than I do right now.”

“Yes,” Tairen muttered. “It seems that perhaps he does.”

It took aboutten minutes before we were ready to set out. I texted Kes that Ari was teleporting home, then hugged her and watched as she disappeared, wondering whether real sprite parents would be doing a better job than I was.

Then I was taken aback all over again when Skye returned the black envelope containing my summons from the Shapeshifter Court. I’d forgotten about it in all the excitement—and now wished I could tear it to pieces and set it on fire—but it wasn’t like I could do anything about that dilemma before I talked to Callum. So instead of venting my frustration, I tucked the card into my back pocket and nodded my thanks to the dragon queen.

“It was nice to meet you,” I said, and to my surprise, I actually meant it.

Maybe the dragons were still judging me. And maybe they didn’t think I was good enough for Callum, but at least they hadn’t rejected me outright. As first meetings went, it could probably have been worse.

“Same.” Skye’s friendly smile seemed entirely genuine. “Ithink you’re going to be good for this family. And”—she bent closer to murmur in my ear—“a perfect match for my cousin and his soft heart.”

Her words were kind, but they reminded me forcefully of the obstacles still remaining between me and Callum. Maybe his family didn’t hate me—and I just knew he was going to gloat when he found out he’d been right about that—but the Shapeshifter Court still loomed large as a barrier we would need to overcome.

If Callum’s people couldn’t accept me, our bond would never truly work. Because I would never ask him to abandon his position for me, nor would he ever permit them to shun his mate.

But that was a problem for another day.

“I hope you rest well,” I told Skye. “Will we see each other again before you leave town?”

“Count on it,” she said with a wink, before grabbing her aunt’s arm and tugging her out the door.

If there was just one thing I knew about looking for missing people, it was that time was critical, so after I thanked Hugh, apologized to Faris, and grabbed my coat, I nodded to Monique and followed her out onto the sidewalk.

“My car is this way,” she said, pointing north down Oklahoma Avenue, but I declined politely. I was absolutely not about to get into a car with someone I’d just met.

“Give us an address,” I requested instead. “We’ll be right behind you.”

I wasn’t sure she believed me, but she gave me an address inMesta Park. It wasn’t far from Twenty-third Street, and I saw Kira’s eyes narrow as she typed it into her phone.

She didn’t say anything until we were in her Subaru, but as she backed out onto Main, she threw me a significant glance. “Pretty sure I know who ratted you out, but I don’t want to make accusations until I have proof.”

Okay, that wasn’t weirdly cryptic or anything.

“Friend or foe?” Surely she could tell me that much.

“Hard to be sure.” She glanced left before taking a right on Robinson. “But I don’t think this is a trap. Monique is probably exactly who she claims to be.”

My hunch magic had been silent, but I agreed with her assessment. Monique was clearly just a desperate mom who wanted her son back.

We took Robinson all the way to Twenty-first and made a left, into the quiet streets of Mesta Park. The homes here were a mix of remodeled and run down, many of them nearly a century old.

Our destination was near the corner of Twenty-first and Lee—a small, gray and white bungalow with a red door, a porch swing, and perfectly manicured flowerbeds. The porch light was on, and Monique stood there waiting for us.

“Not a trap,” I mumbled under my breath. “Definitely not a trap.”

“And if itisa trap,” Kira said coolly, “they will very shortly wish they’d never been born.”

I glanced back, but the darkness hid her expression.

“You sound like you’re hoping there will be a fight.”