I didn’t look away from her.
Not when she dropped her gaze again. Not when her fingers fidgeted with the frayed edge of her sleeve like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. And certainly not when the silence between us began to swell like a tide—rising, stretching, about to crash. Ingrid was stalling, I could tell. I could feel it. The way she shifted her weight, the way she avoided my eyes—none of it was subtle. Not to me.
I drew in a breath, long and sharp and slightly shaky around the edges.
“Ingrid,” I said, and my voice came out lower than I intended. “Tell me. Now.”
She looked up, startled. “Aubrey, could you not—could you not sound like you're about to strangle me with a spell?”
“I’m not going to strangle you,” I snapped. “But if you don’t stop playing games,
