I thought of the meal that Bruce Porter had laid out on his kitchen table last night. “Just as long as it’s not lemon-pepper chicken.”

   Owen frowned, not understanding what I was talking about. But I didn’t want to ruin the lighthearted mood, so I decided not to fill him in on that particular detail. Not yet anyway. I propped some pillows behind my back so that I could sit up.

   Owen bowed low, then set the tray down on my lap and gave an elaborate flourish with his hand. “And breakfast is served, Madame.”

   “You’ve been hanging around Finn too long.”

   He grinned. “Maybe, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do.”

   “Just don’t go around talking about yourself in the third person. Or with an English accent.”

   “I’ll try to refrain from that.” He paused and added a suave note to his voice, doing his best impression of Finn. “Although it will be hard, considering how absolutely, incredibly, adorably awesome I am.”

   “You are adorably awesome, especially when you’re bringing me food,” I teased.

   Owen winked and saluted me with his hand. “Happy to oblige, ma’am.”

   He settled himself on the bed next to me, and the two of us dug into the breakfast that he’d prepared. Blueberry pancakes, applewood-smoked bacon, and a light, refreshing fruit salad made with strawberries, white grapes, kiwi slices, lime juice, and a drizzle of sourwood honey for extra sweetness.

   Finally, we finished our meal, and Owen addressed the elephant in the room.

   “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his gaze flicking to my still-blond hair.

   “Not really, but I guess I should.”

   Owen removed the tray from the bed, sat back down next to me, and put his arm around my shoulders. I told him everything that had happened last night, much more coherently than I had done before, from waking up in Porter’s cottage, to using my Stone magic to escape, to throwing myself and the dwarf off the side of the cliffs.

   “But what about your knives?” Owen asked. “How did you get them back? And why were they in that black satchel?”

   “I’m not sure. That part is still a little fuzzy.”

   I wasn’t lying. It was still a little fuzzy, although I thought that I knew exactly who the man in black was. But I had no way of confirming my suspicions at the moment, so I kept my theory to myself.

   Owen looked at me, concern filling his face. “Are you sure that you’re okay, Gin? Last night, everything that Porter said and did, that had to be horrible, even for you.”

   “Okay?” I shrugged. “I don’t know about that. But I’m as well as can be expected. I’m just glad that we were able to save Elissa.”

   “She owes you her life,” Owen said.

   I winked at him. “And I owe you mine.”

   “Nah,” he said, winking back at me. “You saved yourself, just like you always do.”

   I leaned over and put my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Maybe. But it’s still nice to know how much you care.”

   Owen wrapped his arms around me, pulled me even closer, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll always be here for you,” he said in a hoarse, ragged voice. “When you were missing, when we couldn’t find you . . . my heart was just . . . gone.”

   “I know,” I whispered back. “I know.”

   And we stayed like that, holding each other close, for a long, long time.

   • • •

   It took some doing, but I finally managed to convince Owen that I was fine and that he should go into work. He reluctantly agreed but made me promise to call him if anything happened. But nothing was going to happen. At least, not until I figured out the best way to get close to Damian Rivera. No doubt he’d doubled or even tripled his security by now, but a few extra guards weren’t going to stop me from finally asking him all my many questions about the Circle.

   Owen left, and I took a long, hot shower to ease some of the lingering aches and pains in my muscles. Then I put on fresh clothes and headed downstairs.

   Since it was Friday, I expected the salon to be full of customers, but only four people were in the room: Jo-Jo and Sophia, along with Jade and Elissa.

   Elissa perched on one of the cherry-red salon chairs. A hot-pink cape was draped over her body, and her long blond hair was lying wet, flat, and straight against her head. Jade sat in the chair next to her sister, while Jo-Jo stood at the counter, sorting through some scissors, looking for just the right pair. Sophia relaxed on the floor next to Rosco’s basket, stroking the basset hound’s long, floppy ears while he grunted with pleasure.

   At first glance, everything seemed normal. But Elissa’s face was pale and strained, and Jade glanced over at her sister every few seconds, as if making sure that she was really here and that she hadn’t vanished again. Jo-Jo was right. Damian Rivera could wait. At least for another hour or two. Making sure that Elissa was okay was the most important thing right now.

   “What’s going on in here?” I drawled, leaning against the doorframe.

   All four of them looked at me, and Rosco let out a loud woof! of greeting. He was the only one who didn’t do a double take at my dyed hair.

   Jade cleared her throat and gestured at her sister. “We crashed here last night. We just got up a little while ago and had some breakfast. Since we were already here, Elissa wanted to get her hair done before we go back home. Jo-Jo was nice enough to close the salon down for the rest of the day just for us.”

   Jo-Jo smiled at the two of them. “It’s no problem at all, darling. I’m happy to help in any way that I can.” She finally picked out a pair of scissors, along with a wide-toothed comb, and went over to stand beside Elissa. “All you have to do is tell me what you want, and I’ll work my magic.”