Jax shook himself. “Thanks,” he muttered.
The Sword’s glow faded to the dullness of dried blood. Addie looked Jax up and down, and then her gaze passed on to Griffyn with speculation. Jax isn’t telling the truth about the Sword.
The final Aerons were making their loyalty oaths to Bran, and as each one was accepted, the rest of them cheered. Watching their excitement build, Addie realized that Bran could have called on them to pledge themselves days ago, but he’d deliberately saved it until the eve of his planned assault to rouse their passion and ferocity. The Aerons were too disorganized and wild to maintain focus for very long. Madoc—who’d apparently thought himself on equal footing with Bran—had been entirely blindsided by this, as had Ysabel, who’d returned from wherever she’d been sulking only to have Bran cast an expectant gaze in her direction, too.
The Arawens had enjoyed the status of being allies with the Llyrs for two millennia. But Ysabel was the last of her line, with no family left to back her. Her eyes swept the room, which was now full of enthusiastic Llyr vassals. She glared at her former betrothed and his new, unwilling bride-to-be—but in the end she came forward and knelt before Bran as if it were her own idea. As if she had a choice.
“Now,” Bran said to Madoc when Ysabel had sworn her allegiance. “Your son.”
“Kel’s only fourteen,” Madoc protested.
“His age is irrelevant.”
Kel crept forward like he was going to his doom. Bran accepted his vow with disinterest, not even looking at him. Instead his eyes passed over the crowd and fell on Addie—the only uncommitted person in the room. The Aeron clan, Ysabel, and the Mathonwys were sworn to the Llyrs. Evangeline was bound to Griffyn, and Jax was pledged to Evangeline. Addie was obligated to protect Jax, an Emrys vassal, and had a family loyalty to her sister, but compared to everyone else here, she was relatively free.
If he expects me to kneel down, he’s going to be disappointed. Addie didn’t care how much pain Bran inflicted with his Spear. He might make her scream, but he couldn’t make her swear. And if he hurt her or Evangeline, Jax might unleash the Sword on him.
Bran surveyed her with calculation, then turned away. It occurred to Addie that he wasn’t going to ask her to swear her service to him—not because of her stubbornness or because he was worried about Jax’s Sword, but because he’d already heard someone else claim her as an agent, someone even he wouldn’t dare oppose.
The Morrigan.
Addie had been twelve when the Old Crone first appeared to her. At the time, she’d been peering through the window of a candy store, her eyes fixed on a display of colorful sweets.
“Do you want what you see in there?”
Addie had jumped and whirled simultaneously. A stranger was watching her from the street—an old woman with a bent back and snow-white hair, wearing a shapeless dress more appropriate for sleeping than for walking around in the daytime. She didn’t look threatening, but appearances were deceiving where Kin were concerned—and the woman had to be Kin, because she wasn’t marked with a tattoo.
Addie had glanced up and down the street. They were alone, but the Carroway house was on the next block. If a stranger had gotten this close, Emma would know. Dale would’ve blown the whistle to call all the children home. This woman must have been expected. “You’re new here,” Addie said.
“I come now and then.”
Her eyes were weird—heavy lidded, as if she were half-asleep—and there was something else strange about them that Addie couldn’t put her finger on. “Do you need help finding the house?” Addie asked. Usually Dale or his son led new refugees in, because it was impossible to locate the house otherwise. Perhaps this woman had arrived early.
The stranger shuffled closer. Instead of answering Addie’s question, she repeated her own: “Do you want what you see in there?”
She meant the candy. “Yes,” Addie said. Why deny it?
“Why don’t you take it then?”
It was strange to hear an adult encourage a child to steal, but not all Kin respected the property of Normals. Honesty wasn’t what prevented Addie from breaking into the store, and it wasn’t the punishment she’d get from Dale, either. Addie turned and pressed her face against the window, trying to put her feelings into words. “It would be cheating and not as good,” she said.
“You don’t want the candy,” the old woman concluded. “You want the right to walk in and acquire it like a Normal person.”
Was that it? Addie turned around to answer—and jerked backward. Somehow the old woman had got right up behind her, and now that she was closer, Addie could see what was wrong with her eyes. They were brown. Kin eyes were always blue.
Before Addie could push her away and run, the stranger touched a finger to Addie’s temple. Stars exploded in her head; fire coursed through her veins. Then everything went black.
In the darkness, she heard the old woman’s voice: “Adelina Emrys, the Eighth Day Spell that binds you to an alternate timeline runs in your veins. You come from a line of spell casters known for the flexibility of their magic. I grant you the ability to combine this talent with the limitless power in your blood to see what you want and take it.”
When Addie’s vision returned, she found herself sitting on the sidewalk, propped against the candy store wall, alone.
She had told no one what had happened. She didn’t know how to describe it, first of all, and she thought she might get in trouble somehow. She’d quickly determined that no new visitors were expected at the Carroway house, and Emma had detected nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t until the next day—the following week for the Carroways—that Addie learned about the death of Mrs. Stanwell, the elderly Normal who lived next door. According to Emma, the old lady had died of a heart attack on the night between Wednesday and Thursday. Mrs. Stanwell’s obituary photograph in the newspaper left no doubt in Addie’s mind that she had met a Normal woman on the eighth day—and that the poor woman had died from the strain of whatever she’d experienced.
Even back then, Addie had suspected who’d really spoken to her through Mrs. Stanwell’s mouth, although she wasn’t absolutely certain until the Girl of Crows confirmed it. And by that time, she’d long since realized how the Emrys talent had been altered inside her so that she could see the magic of others—and take it.
Bran ordered them to vacate the warehouse. Because Madoc still believed Dulacs could be tracking Jax through the brownie tunnels, they made the move in warded vehicles. Wards protected the cars from magical detection but didn’t make them invisible. So in the early evening, when Bran commanded the vehicles to stop and everyone to get out on a bridge overlooking a river valley, Madoc argued. “This is madness. We’re highly visible here and vulnerable. Two of Condor’s men didn’t report in today. If they were captured, who knows what they—”
Bran flipped the Spear in his hand and struck Madoc in the head.
The pain of contact with the Spear must have hurt as much as the blow, but Madoc didn’t make a sound. He staggered toward the edge of the bridge. “Dad!” Kel screamed. For a second, Addie thought Madoc was going to tumble backward into the river, but he caught the railing, and a moment later, Kel was there to steady him.
“Gather everyone, hand to hand,” Bran said to Condor, turning his back on the Mathonwys.
Addie followed the crowd gathering on the center of the bridge. Griffyn stood beside his father with Evangeline at his side and Ysabel glowering at them from nearby. Jax was pushed into the lineup. When Condor ushered Addie forward, Bran shook his head. “Let Adelina stand aside to watch and learn.”
Evangeline’s head whipped around. Watch and learn what? Addie could see the question on her sister’s face.
“Tomorrow,” Bran called out, “we assault our ancient enemies. But our tomorrow is eight days hence, and knowing those adversaries will be preparing for our arrival, I wish to send them a gift. Vassals, lend me your strength.”
Bran began to speak in Welsh. The s
ky churned, clouds thickening and darkening overhead. Moments later, Addie felt rain droplets strike her face. Then Bran raised the Spear to the heavens, and power ignited like a bonfire. Griffyn took his father’s free hand and mumbled his own incantation. He grabbed Evangeline, drawing her in against her will.
Magic was invisible to most people, but ever since the Old Crone had touched her, Addie had been getting glimpses of it in colors and images. Never before, however, had she seen it so vividly. Bran was a white spear point of intention; Griffyn, a tightly coiled steel spring of fury; and Evangeline, a brilliant orange star of passion and spirit. Addie watched the Aerons join in one by one, some of them mischievous sparks of malice and others destructive balls of fire. There was Ysabel, dark and jealous and deeper than Addie expected. Jax’s power flickered as if he was holding back, but then he lost control—his loyalty given over to Bran’s spell in a burst of sapphire brilliance while the Sword on his back pulsed with crimson purpose. The brownie on Jax’s shoulder leaped off and bolted back to the cars, ears pressed flat against its head.
The rain intensified, drumming against the bridge. It ran down Addie’s face, and she put up a hand to shield her eyes. This was not a hurricane. Bran was calling for rain, using the Spear to magnify his power. It was going to rain over this mountain range—hard and for days.
By the time Bran lowered the Spear, they were all drenched. Rain was coming down so heavily, the water beneath the bridge looked like it was boiling. Jax pushed wet hair out of his eyes, gaping with a stricken expression at what he’d helped create. Evangeline seemed just as upset. As soon as Griffyn let go of her, she pulled Jax into a hug. She looked back at Addie and held out an arm to include her.
Addie didn’t move. She didn’t need comforting, and she didn’t want to answer the questions Evangeline would no doubt ask. Why did he leave you out? What did he want you to learn?
Her heart was racing. Addie had been seeing and copying talents for a year, but in the presence of the Spear and the Sword, she perceived so much more. Even the oath bonds had been visible to her: the ropes lashing vassals to Bran, the chain that fettered Evangeline to Griffyn, the fierce friendship between her sister and Jax.
This is what Bran wanted me to learn—how the Treasures enhance my gift from the Morrigan. Addie had already noticed it was easier to copy talents since the Morrigan had repaired the Spear of Lugh, and when she borrowed magic from the Spear, her spells were stronger. Now, Jax had brought her the Sword.
Is Bran going to finally show me the counterspell to the eighth day, now that I might have the strength to cast it?
Bran looked at Madoc, who had joined hands at the end of the line of vassals. Kel hid his sullen expression behind his father’s back, but Madoc faced his liege with defeat and servitude.
“Now we will seek shelter,” Bran said. “Make sure it’s on high ground.”
29
THE KIN SELECTED a house they thought was suitable for waiting out the seven-day timeline. Most of them went in immediately, but Jax was told to stay in the car while Madoc warded the house. Kel’s father was convinced people must be scrying for Jax.
Madoc was right, of course; there was someone keeping tabs on him. But the only occasions Jax would’ve been open to scrying were the first few seconds after his arrival in the warehouse—and on the bridge. Jax cringed. Not only had he helped Bran Llyr summon the mother of all rainstorms, Tegan Donovan might have watched him do it.
Why’d it have to be her, of all people? But Riley had proved too impatient to master scrying, or maybe Jax wasn’t a very good teacher. Jax himself had only cast the spell under Evangeline’s instruction. But Tegan had taken to it right away, maybe because she was such a talented sensitive. Jax had been mortified. What if she caught him at an embarrassing moment—scratching his butt, picking his nose . . . or worse? But having someone monitor Jax had been one of the conditions the adults had set for letting him take this mission, and Tegan had been the one assigned to the job. She can’t do it too many times in a row, though. The spell will exhaust her just like it did Evangeline. Maybe she missed the part on the bridge.
It wasn’t Jax’s proudest moment. He’d tried to fake participation, but it was as if an ocean wave had knocked him over. Instead of drowning, he’d ended up riding the surf, and it had been exhilarating. That was the worst part: that he’d enjoyed the incredible surge of magic.
Jax scratched Stink behind the ears and eyed the man with the tattooed face in the driver’s seat. The guy had been told to wait with Jax, but he wasn’t paying close attention, so Jax took a rubber band from his pocket and slipped it onto Stink’s right front limb. He and Riley had worked out basic messages in advance. Stink’s right front limb meant Jax had hit a snag, and they should be prepared for deviations in the plan. Riley would probably consider Evangeline bound to a Llyr and Jax forbidden to use the brownie tunnels more than a snag, but Jax didn’t have a way to convey details. Just as well. Because I’m the only one who can unsnag us.
Kel opened the car door. “Out,” he ordered. Stink jumped off Jax’s lap, hit the ground running, and scampered away from the house. “Hey!” Kel yelled. “Where’s that thing going?”
“I dunno.” Jax climbed out of the car. “He never leaves an itinerary.”
Kel grabbed Jax by his shirt and hustled him through the door and into an ordinary-looking kitchen. This wasn’t an established Kin “safe house.” It was some poor Normal’s home, invaded by the deadliest people on earth.
“The residents are not to know anyone’s been in here,” Madoc called out. “Touch nothing. Move nothing.” Then he did the exact opposite and helped Condor shove a refrigerator back into its alcove. Jax caught a glimpse of a ward inscribed in ink on the wall before the refrigerator slid into place. He realized Madoc had hidden the wards behind objects in the house, so the Normal homeowners wouldn’t see them.
“His brownie ran off,” Kel said.
Condor glared suspiciously at Jax. “Where’d it go?”
Jax shrugged. “To look through garbage cans or off to poop.”
“Forget the vermin,” said Madoc. “Secure the boy.”
“How much time is left?” asked Kel, removing a length of twine from his pocket.
“Two minutes.”
Jax looked around for his liege ladies. Evangeline had come in with Griffyn, and Addie had been sticking close to Bran. Evangeline didn’t have a choice, but Jax didn’t understand what was going on with Addie. She acted like she was the Llyr lord’s apprentice or something.
“Give me your hand,” Kel demanded.
Jax turned. “Sorry, dude, I don’t wanna hold your hand.”
With a sneer, Kel looped the twine around Jax’s wrist and bound it loosely to his own. Then they stood there awkwardly. “You know,” Jax said, leaning his arm on the back of a chair, “the singer you stole that hairstyle from is a real . . .”
The world lurched under his feet, and Jax’s vision whirled, like he’d taken an unexpected spin on a merry-go-round. He lost his balance and might’ve fallen if Kel hadn’t yanked him upright. The chair he’d been leaning against was now a foot away from where it had been with a raincoat draped over its back. Being physically bound to a member of the Kin race had dragged Jax straight from one eighth day to the next, like it had done to Riley last month when he and Evangeline had experimented with tying themselves together.
For Jax, seven days had flown by in the blink of an eye.
“What’s the matter, Transitioner?” Kel unwound the twine. “Didn’t like the jump?”
No, he didn’t. Jax hadn’t paid close attention to his surroundings before, but he was pretty sure there hadn’t been a mop and a bucket beside the back door a second ago, and he was betting the towels stuffed along the windows were new, along with the water stain on the ceiling. It’d been raining hard here for days, just like Bran wanted. This place is pretty high up in the mountains. What happened to the houses down in the valley?
Madoc looked
at his companions. “Now, you can do whatever you like.”
And they did. The Kin trashed the house, eating whatever they wanted out of the fridge and stealing anything they found useful. Jax didn’t like what they were doing, but he was hungry enough to grab a package of deli ham and eat it all. “Are we leaving immediately?” Madoc asked Condor. “They’ll know we’re coming.”
“Bran says it doesn’t matter what they know or what they’ve planned,” Condor replied.
Madoc lit up a cigarette, looking worried. Jax knew how he felt. Why didn’t Bran care that he was walking into a trap?
Griffyn dragged Evangeline over to Jax. “Remind your vassal that he’s forbidden to leave through brownie holes and that he’s to make no attempt to assist the enemy today.”
Evangeline repeated his orders as a direct command, liege to vassal, while Jax clenched his teeth, hung on to his honor blade, and stared at her, mentally repeating the words of the oath he’d made to Riley. I will think about the needs of my lieges before anything else. The Sword on his back practically quivered with hunger this close to its target, and it was a relief when Griffyn stomped off to commandeer food out of his vassals’ hands.
Evangeline lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, Jax. I know I made things worse, going to meet them and getting myself forced into this oath. But they were torturing Addie!”
“You saw that while scrying?”
She nodded. “They told me where to turn myself over.” Then she bit her lip and asked, “Is he angry?”
Jax didn’t have to ask who he was. “He’s worried. And he’s hurt you didn’t tell him.”
“They said if I brought anyone with me or let myself be followed, they’d kill whoever it was and hurt Addie more. I couldn’t tell him, Jax! He would never have let me go on my own.” Evangeline wrung her hands. “I had no idea it was possible to travel long distances through brownie tunnels or track someone with them. Otherwise I would have figured out a better way.”
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