Fosco took the empty glass from my hand and filled it with wine. “You’re going to need it,” he said, offering it back.

I didn’t argue. My hands were shaking, my body barely holding itself together under the weight of everything I’d just learned. I needed something anything to settle my nerves. Fosco sank into the chair across from me, watching me too closely, like he was trying to measure how much I already understood.

“Don’t,” I snapped, my tone sharper than I intended.

He ...