by Laurie McKay
Tito frowned, the right side of his mouth lower than the left. “Then why do you look so upset?”
Rosa turned to him as if to scrutinize his mood. “I’m not upset,” Caden said. “I’m finding a solution. Like leaders do.”
Brynne and Tito exchanged a pointed look. “Is he our leader?” Tito said.
“Not mine.”
Caden ignored them. “I’ll be back.”
Although Rosa didn’t organize the utensils in the exact best way, she did organize them. Caden found the gleaming metal scissors in the bottom drawer. He returned to the living room and placed them in front of Jane. She picked them up and held them close to her face to better look at the silvery blades.
“Enchant those for cutting,” Caden said. He turned to Brynne. “That would be a small enchantment, correct? It shouldn’t cost too much life force.”
Rosa seemed uncomfortable with the entire conversation. “Exactly how much life force are we talking about?”
“It would be tiny,” Brynne assured her. “But why would we need enchanted scissors?”
Jane seemed happy with the idea of enchanted scissors. There was no indication of worry at all. Truly, enchanters liked to enchant. It was, as Ms. Primrose would say, in their nature. “Why wouldn’t we?” she said.
“Well, prince,” Brynne said. “What’s your great idea?”
Caden slipped off his coat. “We need more power. To make contact. And sacrificing small enchantments isn’t enough.”
“It’s not.” Brynne dropped her gaze to his coat.
He nodded to it.
“Your plan is for us to destroy the coat?” Brynne said.
It was enchanted with warmth and protection. It was a symbol of Razzon. The coat sized to fit whoever owned it. And—very important—it never got dirty. “It has powerful magic. Much more than the stapler or whisk had. And it’s been passed from person to person in my family.”
“Giving away enchanted items makes them stronger,” Jane said knowingly.
“I remember,” Caden said.
His father had given the coat to him, and his father to him, and so on. But when it came to the true value of things, it was a coat. An item. A thing. It wasn’t important like a person. It wasn’t important like Jane or Jasan or Lucian. In battle, there was always sacrifice. Better it be his most precious belonging than one of his more precious friends.
The coat felt warm where it was draped across his arm. It brought comfort. It was his connection to his homeland. To use it to help protect Razzon only showed how powerful that connection was. “I don’t think a hammer, even an enchanted one, will destroy enchanted wool. The blood dagger ripped the fabric. An enchanted blade is needed.”
“Like scissors,” Jane said.
“Indeed,” Caden said.
“Are you sure, Caden?” Jane said.
Was magically ripping Caden’s coat to shreds worth the chance to speak to his father, his brothers, worth a chance to warn someone? It was, even if it felt like he was losing all he held dear one person, one thing at a time. That he didn’t say. Instead, he said, “We need to stop this spell to save countless lives. It’s worth it.”
“Jane,” Rosa said. “I’m not comfortable with you enchanting anything.”
But the scissors Jane held were glimmering with enchantment. “It’s already done, Rosa,” Jane said. Caden deemed them magical item number one hundred and thirty-eight—the Enchanted Scissors of Destroying His Most Precious Possession.
The tablet screen continued to glow on the coffee table. Jane held out the scissors.
The room was quiet. “You sure about this?” Tito said. “I know you love that coat, bro.”
True. The coat meant a lot to Caden. But it wasn’t because it was warm or never got dirty. Although those were things he really liked about it. It meant a lot because his father had given it to him. It meant a lot, too, because it was a symbol of the best parts of his heritage and people. “Whatever love I feel for my coat, I feel more for my friends and family. You included.”
“And there you go,” Tito said. “Making it weird.”
Jane offered the scissors to him, handle first. “Do you want to do it?”
Caden didn’t want to be the one to destroy his coat. He didn’t want to touch the scissors either. He shook his head. “You do it.” He transferred his Summerlands compass, Landon’s charred emblem, and his cell phone from his coat pocket to his jeans. Hopefully, fate’s favor would grant them success, and this would work.
He handed the coat to Jane.
Caden didn’t want to watch its destruction either. “I’ll wait with Jasan outside,” he said. Rosa got up to follow him, but he held up his palm. “I want a moment alone with him.”
Without his coat, he immediately felt the chill of the autumn evening as he went out to the porch. His ugly turquoise sweater wasn’t as warm or as meaningful. It wasn’t appropriate finery for an eighth-born prince. Quietly, he shut the screen door behind him. They’d call him once the deed was done.
The clouds looked like a stormy sea, with waves of gray and white and darkest blue. The air continued to grow colder as evening approached. By the woods, Caden noticed Sir Horace. He peeked around a tree and watched. Good. Later Caden would need him to get to Biltmore Forest.
Jasan paced back and forth on the porch, his mouth a tight line, his jaw clenched. He was on his cell phone. He put it away when he saw Caden.
Jasan reached out and touched the collar of Caden’s sweater. “Where’s your coat?”
“They’re shredding it for the communication spell.” Caden wrapped his arms around his chest. Truly, it was colder without his coat. “It’s the symbol of our people, but I told them to do it.” Caden felt like he was confessing a great sin. “Even though Father trusted me to keep it safe.”
“It’s a coat,” Jasan said.
Caden raised a brow. “One you wanted.”
“Not anymore.”
“It means a lot to me, and to our people,” Caden said.
“Its purpose is to protect the royal family and the people of Razzon. Shredding it to warn them serves its purpose. If the king doesn’t like it”—Jasan waved a hand as if to dismiss the king as nothing—“so be it.”
Caden squared his shoulders. “Maybe I don’t like it.”
Jasan tapped his fingers on the railing. He was waiting for something. Impatience and talk of their father seemed to have made him surlier. “Maybe I don’t like you,” he mumbled.
“Doubtful,” Caden said.
Jasan snorted. “Maybe I don’t like anyone.”
Caden had to think on that one.
From the mountain road, Caden heard the cars zooming down the hill.
“Listen, Manglor can’t track the witch. Even if he could, Rath Dunn likely has a backup strategy. Manglor and I are going to stake out the forest to stop the villains.” Jasan pointed to the door. “You and the others warn the Greater Realm. Then stay inside and lock the doors.”
“We should help you.”
“The best way for you to do that is to remain where I won’t worry about you.”
It was cold without his coat. And the night would only get colder. Caden wrapped his arms around his chest. “You should trust me and my friends, Jasan.”
“I’m trusting you to warn our people and save Lucian. That’s quite a lot.”
Caden shivered. “I can do more.”
Something warm flopped across his shoulders. “Here. You can wear my jacket. Until I want it back.”
“It needs to be cleaned,” Caden said.
Jasan raised a brow. “Then give it back to me.”
Caden was warmer now. The nonmagical leather offered some comfort. “No. I’ll keep it.”
“Warn the king.” With that, and with a quick turn toward the trees, Jasan was gone.
The leather felt soft and supple. It had the slightest smell of the Ashevillian soap Jasan used. The sleeves were long and the shoulders a bit big, and there was a smidge
of blood on the right-sleeve cuff.
No matter what Jasan ordered, Caden would go to Biltmore Forest tonight. He would be there to help Jasan. His curse hadn’t been activated yet. He didn’t have to follow anyone’s orders, not even his brother’s.
Rosa met Caden on the porch not a minute later. She nodded toward the woods. “Was that your brother running off?”
Caden nodded. “He runs into battle.”
She frowned, and her brow creased. Then she looked at Caden and ran a finger over the collar of Jasan’s jacket. She knew Caden only wore his enchanted coat. “Jane says they’re ready,” Rosa said. “Come back inside.”
Caden hadn’t been prepared for the carnage in the living room. Midnight-blue fabric soaked in the pan of water. A piece of the embroidered Winterbird’s wing floated, damp and dull, above the other pieces. Tito and Brynne held what remained of a sleeve while Jane held the scissors. Stray threads lay on the green couch and the carpet.
The threads bothered Caden. He pointed to the threads. “Use all of it,” he said.
Tito tossed the loose threads into the pan. The water with the scraps of once-enchanted wool shimmered gold. Caden watched. He waited. They would make contact this time. They had to.
Suddenly, Rosa hugged him tightly. Why she’d hugged him then, he didn’t know.
Brynne poured the shimmery gold water over the tablet. When the glow faded, the octagonal room remained in view. It seemed the connection had kept to the circular mirror in the king’s strategy room.
Caden hoped to see his father, but King Axel hadn’t returned to the room. First-born Valon was still there. So was fourth-born Martin. They were silent. Likely, they waited for the king.
Caden’s coat lay in tatters. Landon was missing. Chadwin was dead. Jasan would bleed out if the third part of the spell was completed. Too much was lost already. This had to work. They had to be able to warn them. And Caden couldn’t risk waiting for his father to return to the room. What if the screen went black again?
Brynne gestured to the screen and nodded.
Jane and Tito watched. Rosa leaned over and waited.
Caden opened his mouth to speak, but a large man passed by the mirror. He was so tall his head was higher than it and so broad the view of the room was completely blocked as he walked by it. Maden.
For an odd moment, Caden lost his words.
“Prince,” Brynne whispered. “This is our only chance.”
On the tablet’s screen, Valon, Maden, and Martin froze. Had they heard Brynne? Valon made a subtle motion to the others to move apart.
“Whoa,” Tito said.
His brothers spun toward the mirror. Valon pulled his long blade, Martin his bow. Maden heaved his heavy broadsword into the air.
It was Caden’s only chance. He needed to speak quickly. He needed to warn Valon and Martin. And the one he needed to warn them against had a broadsword raised and at the ready. He needed to say the right thing. Despite his gift of speech, he’d discovered it was a hard thing to do.
Caden’s first-, second-, and fourth-born brothers stared at the mirror, their faces twisted in various stages of surprise and confusion. Valon stepped forward. He was first-born, gifted in leadership and heir to the crown. Martin and Maden stayed behind him. That was always the way. Valon in front, the others falling into line according to relative birth order.
Martin, ever accurate, got to the point. He glanced at Maden, then peered at them, and it was obvious he could see Caden in the mirror. The two-way connection was finally working because he said, “Caden?” Like Lucian, he also had a dimple, and it showed as he smiled. “You’re alive?” He seemed happy. Maybe not as happy as he would have been if Caden were Chadwin back from the dead, but happy nonetheless.
Caden leaned close to the tablet. He wondered if his face looked huge. “Alive and well. As you can see.”
“All I see is a strange room. Where are you?” Martin said.
Suddenly, Brynne crammed in beside Caden. “Prince Martin, tell my parents I’m alive. Please.”
Martin’s dimple appeared again. “The girl is there, too, then.”
Valon raised his hand to silence him. “I’ll ask the questions,” he said, taking charge.
Fourth-born Martin released a silent sigh but seemed content enough in his place or, at least, accustomed to it. Second-born Maden, however, cut his gaze to Valon. His expression darkened.
Had Caden’s brothers always acted in these subtle ways? Had he failed to notice? Maden was gifted in strength—powerful and larger than life. Was it hard for him to stand in Valon’s smaller shadow?
Valon never let any of them forget he was first-born. Caden had never thought about it, and since Caden was eighth-born, he was so far from the crown that he never worried about being king. It simply was the way things were. But maybe Maden had resented it? Looking at Valon now, Caden could understand how Maden might.
Valon neither looked happy to see Caden nor unhappy. He studied Caden like a piece of information in a greater puzzle, like he was something Valon needed to understand to lead properly. The few times Valon paid Caden attention, it was always of this kind.
“Tell us where you are, Caden,” Valon said. “How did you get there? What’s happened?”
Rosa, Tito, and Jane watched and listened.
This was the most Valon had ever directly talked to Caden. Certainly, Caden had been at dinners and practices aplenty with him. But Valon and he never interacted unless it was through others. He was distant, a bit like the king, but less interested. At least Maden used to listen to Caden speak about the animals of the castle when they passed in the Great Hall. Leadership was about more than control. Just like strength was about more than power.
Without thinking, Caden’s gaze flicked to Maden. Caden needed to choose meaningful, succinct words. Maden knew that Caden knew he was a traitor. He’d asked Rath Dunn to bring Caden to their side last spring. But if Caden named him as such, Maden would attack, and Valon’s back was turned to him.
Valon spoke softer. “Caden, Father will want to know where you and the girl are so we can retrieve you.” A wry smile tugged his lips. “Her parents haven’t been easy to handle.”
“We’re in the Land of Shadow.” Maybe if Caden kept talking, he’d have more time. Maybe someone else would come into the octagonal room.
The cozy room behind Caden probably wasn’t what Valon expected. He furrowed his brow. “The Land of Shadow?”
Behind Valon, Maden inched back. From where Maden stood, he could attack Martin and Valon, strike them down while their backs were turned. But Martin noticed. Martin and Maden exchanged a knowing look. Martin put his hand back on his bow. He returned his gaze to Valon’s back.
What was happening? Caden’s heart began to race. His thoughts felt fast and tangled. No, that wasn’t right. He felt unsure, confused, and betrayed. But there was nothing tangled in his understanding. Lucian had been shadowing Martin. Landon was nowhere to be seen, and Jasan said Maden likely had accomplices in the castle.
But how could Maden—and Martin—betray the king, betray Jasan and Chadwin? Just for power? For the crown? Because they resented Valon? Did they resent the king, too? Did they not care that Chadwin was dead and Jasan banished. Then again, their father had doted on Chadwin. Jasan looked like the first queen, and the king sometimes had favored him, too. Valon was first-born; their father treated him like a future king.
Maden and Martin seemed at ease with each other. They stood side by side behind Valon, their hands on or near their weapons. Their gaze on their first-born brother’s back. Caden wasn’t sure what to do.
Swift, succinct, blurting seemed the best strategy. “Maden killed Chadwin; Jasan’s innocent; Rath Dunn is here.”
Caden expected swords to be drawn and a battle to begin. It didn’t. Though Maden and Martin kept their hands on their weapons.
“I wouldn’t kill Chadwin,” Maden obviously lied.
How could he lie so easily? People in the Greater
Realm told the truth. Except for Manglor. But what power did untruth hold over others? A great deal, Caden realized. If anyone should know the strength in words, it was Caden. That was why he always used them with honor.
“I don’t lie,” Caden said. Good leaders liked reason, so it was with reason that he made his case to Valon. “The night Chadwin died it was only you, Jasan, and Valon there. Valon knows he didn’t betray Chadwin. And if Jasan were to lose his temper and kill someone, he wouldn’t attack them from the back.”
Martin seemed more surprised now. He glanced again at Maden. “Jasan is alive, too?”
Maden gestured to Martin as if to say “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Jasan tries to save the king.”
“Valon,” Martin said. “Do you really think our hot-tempered little brother would try to save us after we banished him?”
That was right. Jasan was younger than all of them but Caden. Sometimes Caden forgot that. He always thought of all his brothers as simply “older.”
Valon turned from the mirror to them. “Maybe,” he said—his hand remained close to his weapon—“if he were innocent.”
“No one’s innocent,” Maden said, and closed his hand around his sword’s hilt.
“Did you betray us?”
“Father’s too stubborn to lead, and you’re too arrogant. What the kingdom needs is strength. We have enemies everywhere.”
“And Rath Dunn isn’t an enemy?”
Maden shrugged, and his broad shoulders rippled with muscles. “Well, he is strong. And he keeps his promises.” Then he chuckled. “Unlike me.”
“Then it seems, brother, you are our enemy.”
Valon, Martin, and Maden stared at one another for a moment. A fight was imminent. There wasn’t time for thoughtful words. Instead, Caden began to yell out everything he knew as fast as he could, about Rath Dunn, about the spell, about the sacrifices. Brynne did as well.
Maden rammed forward into Valon. Valon dodged, veered into the pedestal table, but caught himself. Martin pulled out his bow and aimed at Valon. An arrow whizzed by the mirror. Valon held up the table as a shield; the arrow punctured the tabletop and stopped halfway through.