Ember's POV James asked his questions in order. Not quickly — he had the patience of someone who understood that the right information required the right pace, and rushing a person through something they were reaching back into produced less than waiting for them to arrive at it themselves. "Your father," he said. "Is he wolf?" "No," I said. "Completely human. He has never shown anything — no senses, no strength, nothing that would suggest wolf blood." I held James's gaze. "He is the most ordinary human person I know. He works in finance. He travels for business. He has a very ordinary life." "And your mother," James said. "What was her name?" I looked at the trees. This was the part I had always carried in the specific way you carried things that had no resolution — not painfully, not actively, just present. A gap in the shape of a person. "I do not know," I said. James held my gaze. "My father calls her your mother," I said. "Or sometimes her. He has never said her name in
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