Sitting down on the bench to her left, Astrid motioned to the chair across from her that backed up to one of the stoves.

“Sit there,” she said. “It’s the warmest spot.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sari, this is Ava. She’s not a dumb human.” Astrid waved her hands between the two. “And Ava, this is Sari. She’s as mean as she looks, but she won’t bite unless she has to.”

“Ha ha,” Sari said, rolling her eyes at the woman who was obviously a close friend. Then she turned to Ava. “Damien told Astrid that you’ve traveled to Norway before?”

“Yes, for work.”

“You’re a photographer?”

“I am.”

“Welcome to my country. And to my home.”

“Thank you.”

The woman looked amused at Ava’s terse answers. “Have I offended you in some way?”

Ava decided that Sari would respect the direct approach. “I showed up and you tried to bash in the head of the guy who’s been protecting me. Even though he’s your mate. What do you think?”

The room fell almost silent around them, but Ava never let her eyes leave Sari’s. Sari said nothing, but the smile never left her lips.

“And how is this your business, Ava Sakarya? Did I attack you?”

Ava supposed she had a point. It wasn’t her business. Not really. So why was she so resentful of the woman? “No, you didn’t attack me. I just think… you’re lucky to have him,” Ava said in a low voice, her eyes flicking to Astrid. “Not all of us do.”

Was it her imagination, or did a hint of guilt cross Sari’s face?

“I suppose you’re right. Then again, he’s quite lucky to have me, as well.”

“I’m sure he’d say the same thing.”

Sari’s eyes gleamed. “I know he would.”

There was a pause, then attention shifted away from Sari and Ava as the voices in the room resumed their quiet hum.

Sari stretched her arms up. She was an immensely tall woman. Her body and presence both made Ava feel like a child. Her muscles were hardened and lean. In the human world, people would assume she was a serious athlete. To Ava, she simply looked lethal.

“Are you comfortable here?” Sari asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“And how are you sleeping?”

Astrid barked something in a language Ava didn’t understand, then exchanged a few sharp words with Sari.

But Sari only smiled at her. “Astrid tells me that this is none of my business, and that she is the healer. I disagree. You’re in Sarihöfn—which was named for my great-grandmother, by the way, not me—so that makes your sleep part of my business.”

“My sleep? What does sleep—”

“Sleeping. Dreaming,” Sari said. “For us, these are not the same as for humans. Sleep is when our souls reach out. We can perform magic in dreams if we’re not careful. Didn’t they explain that to you?”

“No. There was a lot the scribes never explained.”

Sari sighed. “Well, that is… sadly typical. They do love their mysteries and cryptic puzzles.”

“There also wasn’t much time.”

Astrid said, “Sari, move on. I’ll talk to her about sleeping. I think she’s fine.”

“Very well,” Sari said. “Astrid tells me you are a mystery. Were you truly raised among humans?”

“Yes.”

“Very curious. I assume your mother lost her mate. Why did she not seek shelter with her family?”

The focus of the room was back on them both, and Ava tried not to cringe under the scrutiny. She felt like she had every time she entered a new school. Her stepfather’s money and connections meant that people had certain preconceived notions about who Ava would be. Their notions always exceeded the reality.

“You’re not crazy. You’re a miracle.”

His voice whispered to her, reminding her to sit up straighter. “My mother is human, not Irina.”

Sari frowned. “I known a human raised you, but who is your real mother? A nanny? A servant? It wouldn’t be unheard of after the Rending to hide among the humans, but someone must have shielded you as a child. Didn’t they ever find out? Surely the scribes with all their voluminous records could find your real mother. Even in America, they have archives.”

Why hadn’t Damien explained it better? “No. Lena Matheson is my real mother. And my father—”

“So she is Irina.” Sari looked as frustrated as Ava. “And mated to a human?”

“No, my mother is not Irina. I told you—”

“But she has to be.”

“She’s not,” Ava said through gritted teeth.

“But you’re Irina!” Sari said, grasping Ava’s wrist. She tried to pull away but couldn’t. “I can feel you. So powerful. You’re like a shot of pure energy. And mated, as well. Marked, Astrid said.”

“Yes.”

“So there must be some mistake.” Sari squeezed her hands tighter. “You must not have known. Your real mother—”

“Lena Matheson is my mother,” she said. “Now let me go.”

She didn’t. “But your mother must be Irina.”

“Well, she’s not. And before you ask, I look exactly like her. Everyone knows I’m her daughter. A single look would tell you.”