Page 107 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

Graves spared her a glance. “Sure.”

And that was that. Gen headed upstairs while Kierse and Graves waited to be alone.

“A favor now, Wren? Don’t you have to trust someone for that?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not for me.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Do you know a cure for the incubus curse?”

Graves’s eyes widened. “I’m glad that you started by clarifying it wasn’t a favor for you. Whoisthis favor for?”

“Maura,” Kierse confessed with a wince.

“Ah,” he said as if all the pieces slipped together in his brilliant mind. “She and Nate are getting married. They want to have kids.”

“Yes. They’ve exhausted all the options they have. I think you’re their hail mary.”

“No,” Graves said slowly. “There is no known cure.”

Kierse deflated. “I thought not.”

“But…”

Her eyes jumped back to his. “But?”

“There may be one, if we get the cauldron.”

Kierse’s mind whirled at the implication. “You think the cauldron could cure the curse?”

“A curse is a magical ailment. A magical healing might be possible,” he conceded. “We’d have to get our hands on it first.”

And now Kierse was more determined than ever to succeed at this heist.

Twenty minutes later, they were back in the library. Anne was perched on Gen’s lap, purring. Legitimately purring with contentment as Gen stroked her back. As if that cat letanyonepet her.

“You’re a witch,” Kierse said as she sank into a seat across from them.

Graves blinked at the sight. “Have you bespelled her?”

“Animals like me,” Gen said with a smile for Anne. “She knows who to trust.”

Graves and Kierse looked up at each other, and Kierse bit her lip to contain a laugh. Perhaps that was a fair assessment.

Laz yawned as he stretched out all of his khaki onto the blue chaise that had been brought in for Kierse’s training sessions. “He’s late.”

“He usually is,” Graves said in irritation.

At that moment, the library door flew open, and in walked a massive man with the gait of a sailor. His stride was a sway more than a prowl, as if he was still on the deck of a boat out to sea. He was built like a tank, all broad shoulders and thick waist, and he had russet-brown skin with black hair in long locs down his back.

It wasn’t until he was closer that she could see the webbing between his fingers and spattering of iridescent blue scales that glittered along his wrists and neck. He was a mer.

She was surprised. As far as she knew, Graves didn’t normally work with monsters. She hadn’t known what to expect from Schwartz, but she had assumed he was human like Laz.

“Ah, Schwartzy!” Laz said, jumping to his feet. He clapped hands with the man, and they bumped chests.

“Lazarus,” Schwartz said in a deep voice with the hint of a Caribbean accent she couldn’t place more precisely. “My brother.”

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