Asil bowed his head at the other male, accepting his statement. And that simply, Wellesley was clear. Anna felt a wave of relief—which was ridiculous. She didn’t know the man, just loved his work.

She wondered if they could just have all of the wildlings deny their culpability. It would make their job a lot easier. She was pretty sure that Bran could make them do that, but she wasn’t sure that Charles could. Kill them, yes. Force them to answer insulting questions? Maybe not. If Charles couldn’t, then she and Asil stood no chance.

Wellesley tapped his toe on the floor and cleared his throat. Not-staring at Asil with such intent that he might as well have his eyes locked on the other wolf. Asil’s lips curled into a smile.

“It was not I,” Asil told Wellesley clearly, catching his reluctant eye and holding him in his gaze by a willpower that Anna could feel even though she was not its focus.

“I would never willingly betray a trust given to me,” Asil said. “I told no one outside of the pack that Bran was gone.”

He hesitated thoughtfully, still holding Wellesley, made a soft sound, then continued. “I did not know Hester or Jonesy except through the stories of others. I never met either of them, though I knew they were here and approximately where they lived. I cannot recall what I have said about either of them or to whom, only that I would not speak of them in name or in any detail to anyone not in this pack.

“I would not willingly take part in any attack upon Bran’s people or upon this pack, which I now call my own. This attack was underhanded—and clumsily done. If I were to do something like this, it would have been much better handled. Five years from now, Bran would still be scratching his head and wondering what happened to Hester and her mate.”

Wellesley grimaced at Asil, then looked away from them both.

“Really,” said Anna, amused despite herself. “That’s your defense? ‘If it had been me, I’d have done it right’?”

Asil smiled at her. “And what did you hear, wolf child? Was I lying?”

Anna hesitated, then shrugged. “You could probably tell me you had four aces in your poker hand, and I’d believe you even if the ace of spades was in my hand. Sadly, I think your last statement is more persuasive to me than whether or not I could tell if you were lying.”

“Agreed,” said Wellesley.

He was being very careful to keep his gaze away from Asil, staring mostly at the wall as he spoke, but there was a confident amusement in his voice totally at odds with his body posture. “I dare you to tell that to Bran.”

“Bran would tell that to him,” Anna said with a put-upon sigh. “Bran knows Asil.”

Asil looked at her. It was a look with weight to it. She’d seen it on Charles before but not on Asil.

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Really? You think I could be married to Charles and betray this pack? Charles?” And I’m not a wildling, she didn’t say, but she thought it very hard. If she thought it was just a show for Wellesley, she wouldn’t have been so annoyed. Hurt.

“I raised a witch who killed my mate,” he told her, deadly serious. “I have learned not to trust my instincts about such things.”

There was that, wasn’t there?

“Okay,” said Anna to Asil. “Here goes.” She held his eye—not that eye contact was important to a wolf who was evaluating statements for truth, most of that was their nose and hearing. But it seemed to be how they were doing this, so she could play along.

“I did not betray this pack.” She thought about the factors that spoke of betrayal, and said, “The enemy probably knows that Bran is not here. I discussed Bran’s absence with no one outside the pack. I told no one in the pack or out of it about Hester because until yesterday I had no idea who she was or where she lived.” She was getting mad, having to spell things out, so she brought it back to something simple. “I have never knowingly betrayed the pack, would never betray the pack.”

“No one not in the pack knew of Hester,” said Asil, an arrested look on his face.

“Samuel?” asked Anna.

“Oh, probably Samuel knew,” Asil said dismissively. “But to imagine Samuel betraying his father or this pack which was once his own? I cannot conceive of Samuel’s doing such a thing.”

Anna knew Samuel, of course, but he had left the pack long before she’d joined. She’d met him now and again, but she didn’t know him well enough to say anything about him. But she trusted Asil’s judgment.

“She could not do this,” said Wellesley, waving his hand at Anna without looking at her. “She doesn’t know enough to have planned it. And no mate of Charles could be untrustworthy—Brother Wolf sees more clearly than most.”

“Agreed,” said Asil with a sigh. “Truly, it would have been too easy if it had been any of the three of us.”

“Whoever it is, they could teach the fae about deception,” Wellesley said. “Whoever it is has lived with Bran—and not betrayed the fact that they are a traitor. Never lied and yet betrayed the Marrok just the same.” He turned his head suddenly and whispered something she didn’t catch.

Anna started to ask him to repeat it, but Asil caught her eye and shook his head.

“I cannot conceive of such a thing,” Asil said.

“Gerry Wallace,” said Anna, dryly, “betrayed Bran and all his kin and kind.” She might never have knowingly met him, but his betrayal still rang through the pack at odd moments. “Let’s not turn our enemy into someone who is superhuman.”

Asil gave her a sharp look.

“You know what I mean,” she said, harassed. “Of course we are, all of us, superhuman—but giving our enemy more power in our imaginations is not useful.”

“Still, it would be hard to keep an act like that going,” said Asil. Apparently, even though Wellesley had cleared himself, they weren’t going to let him in on the note Jonesy had left.

It would be a lot easier to keep a secret from Bran if you were one of the wildlings and weren’t living under his thumb on a daily basis.

As Asil had indicated as they drove here, Wellesley, with his ability to go unnoticed, would have been a reasonable candidate for their spy. Except now that she’d met him, she was pretty sure he didn’t have the focus.

“Sorry,” said Wellesley. “I’m pretty isolated. I’m not much help. Sorry.”

“Maybe, Anna,” suggested Asil, his attention on their host, “you and I should go warn the other people on the list.”

Anna, who’d been lost in her thoughts, glanced at Asil, then at Wellesley. The artist was shaking a little, and sweat had broken out on his forehead.

“Oh, stay,” said Wellesley, in a low, clipped tone that was nothing at all like the voice he had been using a moment ago. “This is more interesting than anything that has happened in a while.”

Anna looked at Asil, but he didn’t see her. He was watching Wellesley like a cat watches a mouse—but more wary and less hungry.

“Let us look at the newest members,” said Wellesley, sounding more like himself. Or at least, more like he’d sounded at first. He opened his hands and closed them a couple of times as he continued, “They would have had to deceive Bran the shortest length of time.”

In another person, Anna would have taken that as a threat. But it didn’t track with what they were talking about or with the rest of his body language, which had been submissive to Asil the whole of this encounter.

“It’s not Kara,” said Anna positively.

“No,” agreed Asil. Anna noticed that Asil had seen those hands, too. He paced a little as if he were thinking, but the movement in the small room left him directly between Wellesley and Anna. “She is a baby—and we know her background. She could not lie to me, let alone Bran.” He paused. “And I’m pretty sure that she didn’t know anything about Hester. It’s not like anyone talks about the wildlings other than as a general warning.”

What was Asil’s game here? To see if Wellesley could finger one of the other wildlings?

“She could have heard something,” Wellesley said, but this time it was a soft whisper, apologetic and tentative. “Children do.” He was still bent low, staring hard at the corner of the room away from both Asil and Anna.