SARAPHINA'S POV

Ronan was already waiting by the time I slipped into the parlor. He was leaning against the window frame, his shirt half unbuttoned, as usual, looking too calm for a man who looked like he spent his life scheming in the shadows. He looked up when I walked in, and something about the glint in his eyes made me feel like he’d been thinking too much.

“We need to talk,” I said simply.

He pushed off the frame and nodded. “About your cousin?”

“Obviously,” I said, settling ...