“Brenton, could I speak with you?” I asked Elle’s father.
He was sitting in the garden reading a book as usual. We had never sat down one on one together like this, so he looked at me with curious interest. He set his book down and turned to me with a friendly smile.
“Of course,” Brenton said. “How can I help you, Ludo?”
“I was wondering what you remember from Hail Flame,” I asked. “I found out my mother was Irish, but I don’t know what tribe. The book only said rogue, but she must have come from somewhere.”
“You checked with Denny?” he asked. “Our tribe died out over twenty years ago.”
“Yes, and he checked with Devon from Crystal Scale, but no one with her name was there,” I said.
“What is her name?” Brenton asked.
“Gretchen O’Shea,” I answered.
“Hm, i
