Eliminating Arwen would also have a catastrophic effect, but most people didn’t realize that yet.

Her brother responded at once, as if he’d been awake and listening for her. I’ve spoken to Grandmother in the time since I sent you the message. I’m . . . glad you didn’t take her prohibition against trusting anyone to apply to me.

Silver didn’t chide him for believing that she might; Arwen was on his own journey, and it was a difficult one. Did Grandmother share all the pertinent details?

Yes. After a certain amount of discussion—whereupon I pointed out that if she didn’t tell me what was going on, I’d hack your mind and find you anyway.

Recalling Valentin’s words about “rough and tumble,” Silver chose a pair of black jeans that weren’t new and that Ena was unlikely to have sent. The new pants were all sharply tailored, as per Silver’s usual preference, and totally unsuitable for this rugged place. She paired the jeans with a crisp white shirt that had her grandmother’s stylistic fingerprint all over it.

To her brother, she said, You haven’t been able to hack my mind since we were four.

I haven’t tried since then. A pause. I’ve been going over the security footage. The only non-family visitors you had in the operative window were Monique Ling and Alpha Nikolaev.

Monique only got as far as my living area and I never left her alone.

And you never let Alpha Nikolaev in at all.

Placing underwear with the clothing on the bed, Silver said what Arwen couldn’t. There is no question then. It was family.

The incident with the power outage four and a half months ago means there’s a gap in the security footage, so there remains a slim chance it was an outsider.

You know as well as I do that the power cut was caused by a freak technical failure, Silver replied. The poisoner would’ve had to have the gift of foresight and be waiting all but outside my door to action his or her plan in such a limited time window.

I know. I just don’t want it to be family. Arwen’s telepathic voice was as distinctively husky as it was in real life, boosted by her psychic signal to sound as if he stood in the room next to her. I’m assisting Grandmother to get to the bottom of it.

Forward me all the data.

Do you want it through your comm account or in a psychic vault?

Ending the conversation after they’d discussed the most secure method of transfer, Silver got in touch with Ena. She had no concern about waking her from sleep—Ena was the one who’d taught her how to set up the telepathic waiting room, would’ve activated that if she didn’t want to be disturbed.

Grandmother, she said, I’m awake and at full psychic strength. I do feel a certain physical weakness that may take longer to conquer.

Her grandmother responded immediately. The doctors said it could take up to three days. The lab has finished analyzing the poison. It’s something new, designed to debilitate rather than kill. Had you not received immediate medical attention even after only half a glass, you wouldn’t have died. You’d have been left a vegetable.

I see. That, too, spoke to their enemy’s aims. It wasn’t just about taking me out. It was about making me—and by extension, the family—appear weak.

As Alpha Nikolaev pointed out to me, you are EmNet, Silver. And EmNet is the most visible face of Trinity.

Silver nodded, though no one could see her, the action a subtle breach of Silence that she noted with the periphery of her mind. Make me weak, make EmNet appear weak, hit it hard while it’s not rooted enough to recover quickly from the setback. It made a ruthless kind of sense. A dead director could be replaced, but one that was lingering, weak and mindless? The psychological damage would be severe.

Think about the implications of that, her grandmother said. Your brother is assisting me.

Yes, Grandmother.

After ending the conversation, Silver had to sit to get her breath back.

Her psychic and physical reserves were very low. She needed fuel.

Shifting priorities, she lifted the lid off the covered tray. No nutrition bars or nutrient drinks, but she recognized the flatbread as one she’d eaten during a long work session in another region. It was created of lentils and was deeply nutritious while not overwhelming to her taste buds.

Alongside sat a bowl of what appeared to be a dip.

She tore the flatbread into small pieces, used it to try the dip. Not a strong taste, but it appeared nutritious. And if Valentin had wanted her permanently incapacitated, all he would’ve had to do was leave her on the floor of her apartment. The deliberately obdurate bear had also been sending her unexpected and inexplicable gifts of food for months.

Whenever she asked him to stop, he grinned and pretended he had no idea of the identity of her “anonymous admirer with the exceptional taste in food.” All the while, they both knew he was responsible for the red velvet cake, the flavored nutrition bars, the individually wrapped nashi pears, the gourmet dinners delivered hot from a restaurant close to her office, and more. The last cake, a dark raspberry, had been accompanied by a card that named her admirer as Mr. I. M. A. Medvezhonok.

Mr. I’m a Teddy Bear.

Silver finished everything on the tray, including the two squares of dark chocolate that were bitter rather than sweet. She also drank the full bottle of water. Her body absorbed it all, her psychic abilities burning up far more energy than most people realized. She’d be hungry again in about two hours. Usually it’d take longer than that, but her healing body also needed fuel.

She waited ten minutes to let the food settle before she entered the shower.

Once clean, she dressed and ran a brush through her hair, having found the wood-handled item in a basket of toiletries in the bathroom. There was no dryer, but Silver had no intention of walking out with her hair down. It wasn’t about image, but about establishing strength—more important than ever in the middle of a predatory changeling clan known for its brash nature. Especially since she’d been carried in unconscious.

Sweeping up her damp hair, she fashioned it into a knot at her nape. She would let it down to dry once she was back in her room. That done, she opened the cosmetic pack she’d also found on the bathroom counter.

It proved to hold the correct items for her skin tone.

She used mascara and a gloss. Again, it was part of her armor. Silver Mercant was never seen with a hair out of place. She woke up with a face like a “robot that would kill you while looking good doing it.”

That particular quote was from a newspaper article written by a human.

Hyperbolic, but the description was apt.

Silver did not want to look approachable or “human”—she wanted to be robotic perfection, a woman no one dared to cross. People didn’t try to harm robots. So clearly, she needed to work on that, since someone had attempted to do exactly that.

She’d just realized that while she’d found socks, she’d located no footwear, when there was a light knock on her door. It wasn’t Valentin. She was fairly certain he didn’t believe in the concept of a quiet knock—or wasn’t physically capable of it. Valentin Nikolaev did everything with the hugeness of the bear inside him.

The knock came a second time, just as light.

Chapter 10

There is no heart more generous than that of a bear changeling.

—The Traveler’s Guide to Changelings (Revised Edition: 1897)

CROSSING THE STONE floor barefoot, Silver unlocked the door with her psychic senses at high alert. The person on the other side proved to be a tall, curvy woman with shining black curls styled to perfection and flawless makeup, her dark brown eyes thickly lashed and her lips a pop of rich red that matched the red cherries on her black dress. That black dress had a full skirt and a fitted top with a wide shallow neckline that showed off the smooth honey-dark skin of her toned shoulders.