Aria’s expression soured and she glanced at Henry. “Since when do you employ witches?”
He shrugged. “Something new the boss wanted to try. Care to explain what she’s talking about, or should we take our business elsewhere?”
The banker definitely scowled as she shoved her chair back. “I’ve been in this city for decades and no one has challenged me. Do you really want to be the ones to start?”
“We like to know who is looking out for our business interests,” Henry said. “All we need is a simple explanation.”
Aria drummed her fingers on the table in a rolling tattoo that made his nerves twitch. It reminded him of the eerie attention of Smith, some ancient fae nightmare who lived in the city and had occasionally intervened in the lives of the shifters to tip the scales in favor of good over evil. Smith worked as a private investigator and had been the one to help SilverLine trap Deirdre into saving Evershaw’s life, so Deirdre wasn’t a big fan of the fae or whatever he was. Maybe it was a fae versus witch thing.
Henry folded his arms over his chest as his stomach rumbled and his thoughts drifted to lunch. “We are aware there are many different... types in this city, all seeking to live in peace. Are you a witch? Fae? Some kind of shifter?”
The banker twitched when he said fae, and after a long silence, her lips thinned until they almost disappeared. A hint of very sharp teeth appeared when she finally spoke. “I am similar to what you might call fae. That is as much as I can say on the matter without running afoul of other forces.”
He didn’t sense any threat from her, nor from her bank. Their business had always been straightforward and handled promptly. SilverLine had no complaints about the professional relationship at all. And yet... not knowing who and what they dealt with every day made his skin prickle. What did “similar to fae” actually mean?
Ophelia continued to gaze around the room, perhaps measuring that magic she sensed, but eventually she tapped the table and nodded. “It is truth, or as close as she can admit. The magic feels... different. I would like to study it more.”
Aria’s sharp teeth were far pointier than any human’s had ever been; the visual turned Henry’s stomach, as if Aria had been a snake in human clothing all along and only recently showed her true colors. He didn’t let himself cringe back though, since it wasn’t worth ruining a perfectly good business relationship over.
The banker eyed Ophelia with distaste. “There is nothing to study, witch. You would not be able to learn anything.”
“I observed a sorcerer at work once,” the witch said absently. “He’d stolen some practices from the fae and learned to use them.”
“That’s impossible,” Aria said.
They argued quietly and coldly about things he only halfway understood—something about protect magic that came from inside instead of the outward-facing magic that came from the environment, and how one couldn’t use the other but the fae could or the witches could or something. He glanced between them like trying to follow a tennis match, amused as the argument got more and more technical until it devolved into actually trading secrets instead of guarding them.
He could have sat there all day and listened to Ophelia’s confident lecture on witch magic, surprised by the change in her when she started in on a topic she’d mastered. The fact that Aria responded to her in the same emotionless, highly technical manner helped, no doubt. He sat forward when Ophelia abruptly launched to her feet and strode across the office to gesture at a painting on the wall, and Aria followed on her heels to argue about whether a spell concealed the wall or the wall’s magical nature diverted the eye and thus didn’t need concealment.
He chuckled and then immediately schooled his face into solemnity as two pairs of angry female eyes found him. Henry sat up straight in his chair like he’d been caught passing notes in school, and cleared his throat. “This is a fascinating discussion, but I don’t want to take up too much more of your time, Ms. Henderson. Perhaps we could make another appointment and return to talk more about spells and magic, or you’re more than welcome to join us for dinner one night. I’m sure Deirdre would be equally interested in hearing about these theories.”
He just hoped he didn’t accidentally insult their magical beliefs by calling things theories or spells. Henry figured he had an equal chance of leaving the office in one piece or being turned into a reptile of some kind.
Aria’s eyes narrowed just slightly as she tilted her head and considered him, and for a split second, he thought her pupils went vertical like a cat’s. “You would invite me to your home?”
“Of course,” Henry said. He eased to his feet and gestured at the door. “Perhaps next week, if you’re available? We live on the other side of the city, but we can make the trip worth your while.”
Ophelia joined him but kept gazing around the room, searching for hints of things he couldn’t see, and her attention snapped back to the banker as Aria said, “Be careful not to make promises to my kind, wolf. Obligations carry too much weight.”
He nodded, though he didn’t entirely understand. “Thank you for the information. We’ll leave the paperwork and Todd will return next week for the next step.”
Aria remained in the middle of the office, watching them silently, as Henry caught Ophelia’s hand and drew her through the door and into the lobby once more. He didn’t quite breathe until they were outside and in the car, and it felt like a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders and he could finally inhale. “So. What was that about?”
Ophelia frowned as she fussed with her seat belt. “It didn’t feel right in there. It wasn’t a threat, maybe, but... I didn’t want you to sign any papers unless she was clearer about who and what she is.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” he said. “I thought you two might fight for a second.”
Ophelia snorted and slid him a sideways look. “Not in public like that.”
“Is that not how witches fight?” He started the car and pulled away from where they’d parked by the bank. There weren’t any good restaurants in the business district, not yet, and he wanted to take her to one of his favorite places—a dingy barbecue pit in one of the “up and coming” neighborhoods.
“Typically, no.” She half-turned in her seat to face him, studying his profile, and Henry’s chest got warm and tight to know that she was so close he could touch her arm if he wanted to. Ophelia looked more thoughtful than worried. “Witches usually wait until they outnumber the threat, then attack in the middle of the night or when everyone else is distracted and busy elsewhere. There are seldom any daylight or straightforward confrontations with witches. That I asked her outright what she was may be the only reason she actually answered. I’m just…not the kind of witch who waits to strike from the shadows.”
Henry made a thoughtful noise and reached out to brush his fingers across the inside of her wrist. “I’m glad you’re not that kind of witch.”
She flushed and a hint of a smile touched her face, though she looked away. “Me too.”
He squeezed her hand, relieved that she didn’t pull away, and the wolf started to relax again. His girl was safe, despite the unexpected threat from the banker, and he would feed her before taking her home to their den.
They were making their way to a table in the crowded restaurant before Henry realized that he’d started to truly think of Ophelia as his mate—in every sense of the word.
