FELICIA'S POV
I heard his voice through the study door before I even reached it.
I'd only come about the festival roster — whether my name would sit on the guest list, the kind of question small enough to survive being asked out loud. Practical questions got answered in this house. The other kind got smiled past.
My hand was already up to knock when the shape of it reached me. Logan's voice, low, counting something out under his breath. A number. And beneath the number, plain as the number itself, the fountain boy's name — and a birth that might not have belonged to Ralph at all.
I had the arithmetic before either of them finished saying it. You live long enough inside pack politics, you learn what a number like that is for, and it went in under my ribs with real weight.
I didn't knoc
