His voice sounded almost gentle. Almost.
“Does it matter?” Nicoletta replied.
“It does,” he said, slowly climbing the stairs toward her, “if you’re planning to disappear again without telling anyone. Or if you’re looking for things that could get you hurt.”
“It’s just a meeting,” she said calmly. “With an old fortune-teller. I’ll be with a friend. Not with Remus. Not with danger. Just with myself. I need to know who I am.”
Marcus stopped a few steps away. His eyes were tense, studying her closely.
“And are you sure you really want to know who you are?” He tilted his head. “Because I’m starting to doubt it, Letta.”
“Maybe because you want me to be convenient. Simple. Predictable.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And I never have been.”
The silence between them was louder than a
