Lily twisted around in the wheelchair, but couldn’t see them. Rule moved behind her and turned the chair to face the two people coming down the road toward them—Benedict and a woman with black-rimmed glasses, thin legs encased in skinny jeans, and amazing red hair. She wore sneakers and a snug blue T-shirt with something written on it.
They were holding hands. “Hi, Lily,” the woman said as they rounded the limousine’s hood. “I know who you are, of course, because you’ve been on the news, and so has Rule Turner, so I know him. Maybe you recognize my voice? I’m Arjenie.” She gave Isen a reproachful look. “I knew Benedict had a bad habit of picking people up without asking. I didn’t know you were prone to it, too.”
It was easy to develop the wrong mental image of someone you’d only e-mailed with or spoken to over the phone. Lily knew that. The sight of Arjenie Fox was still a surprise. The thinness somehow fit. So did the glasses and the expressive face, but the long, wild hair in that vehement red was totally unexpected. “Arjenie,” she said. “It’s good to meet you in person. And yes,” she said as Arjenie and Benedict reached them, “the man lurking behind me is Rule.” Lily held out her hand.
“You want to see what my magic feels like, I guess.”
“Yes. Thank you for cooperating.”
They clasped hands. The magic coating Arjenie Fox’s skin wasn’t quite like any Lily had touched before. It made her think of the iridescence inside a clamshell, rendered tactilely—slick, yet somehow plush, too. Like touching the shimmer in velvet and being surprised by its nap.
“Hello, Mr. Turner,” Arjenie said politely … so glad I did it so scary but these people are okay because I did it and how terrible awful if their beautiful bodies were hurt would be so terrible I’m glad I … “It’s good to meet you.” … look like your pictures only better makes my eyes happy only not Benedict Benedict makes me ache Benedict I love his name blessing or benediction I hope he kisses me again no I don’t that was really scary and I don’t understand but his mouth oh I …
“Arjenie.” Lily’s heart pounded.
“Is something wrong?” … with my magic? Still holding my hand does my magic feel weird why are you looking at me like—
“What is it you can’t tell us about?”
Arjenie’s mouth turned up in an anxious smile. Dya oh Dya I’m so worried why didn’t you tell me more … “If there were something I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t tell you, could I?” They’d help you if I could … but Friar’s evil he … madness … if only … “Could I have my hand back, please?”
Dammit, she was losing it. Whatever “it” was. “Who’s Dya?”
Arjenie’s eyes went huge. Her hand tightened on Lily’s like she intended to juice it. YOU CAN HEAR ME?
That thought arrived in a single blast that nearly sent Lily’s eyeballs rolling back in her head. She gasped and swayed.
“What is it?” Rule snapped. “Lily?”
Lily narrowed her eyes against the pain, which was generous enough to blot out any complaints her arm might be making. “She was mindspeaking me.” Lily looked at her hand still gripped tightly in Arjenie’s and listened to … nothing. “Emphasis on the ‘was.’ ”
TWENTY-EIGHT
LILY’S eyelids lifted, and she was back. But in the wrong room.
No, that was stupid. Coming out of the light trance that was in sleep was as easy as opening your eyes—no sleepy brain-fuzz, no disorientation. She knew where she was—in Rule’s old room—and how and why she got there.
She knew Rule was with her. And Harry. She heard him purring, felt him curled alongside her.
Her head didn’t hurt.
Lily hadn’t been able to get the mindspeech to happen again. They’d tried. It seemed clear that whoever Dya was, she was connected to everything Arjenie couldn’t talk about, since she couldn’t speak the name aloud. But whatever Lily had done when she took Arjenie’s hand the first time, she couldn’t do it with a jackhammer smashing rhythmically into her skull. So she hadn’t argued when Nettie wanted to put her in sleep. There was no damn point. She hadn’t been able to think, much less figure out an off-again, on-again new skill.
Or maybe it was Arjenie’s skill, not hers. She hadn’t figured any of it out yet.
“Better?” Rule asked quietly.
“Yeah.” She moved her head tentatively on the pillow. “Lots better.”
A dun-colored ceiling hung above her. It and the walls brightened to a soft gold in the glow of the reading lamp in one corner, the room’s only illumination. That color was one of many things that had changed in this room since a much smaller Rule slept here every night. A few things remained from those years, though. Next to the window stood a mahogany bookcase. Benedict had built it before Rule was born, a baby gift for his youngest brother. The bookcase still held a few childhood trophies—a rock with a perfect trilobite fossil embedded on its surface; a mitt sized for a small hand; a ragged but complete set of E. E. “Doc” Smith’s Lensmen series.
The rest of the furniture was newer, sized and styled for adults. Like the comfy armchair over by the reading light. It was large and worn and leather—what was it with guys and leather?—and the same cocoa color as the comforter.
Rule wasn’t in the chair. He sat on the king size bed beside her, holding her hand. The chocolate comforter was folded back; only a sheet covered her. Dimly she heard voices coming from another part of the house. The loudest one sounded like Cullen.
She tried moving her head again, and smiled at the beautiful absence of pain. “I should send Nettie flowers or something. You haven’t been just sitting here, have you?”
“No.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “I’m devoted, but—”
“Not insane?”
“Carl makes excellent chicken and dumplings.”
And Rule was too sensible to allow himself to remain hungry. “How long was I out?”
“It’s after ten. Tuck-in with Toby took awhile.”
“He’s upset.”
“He had questions about her.”
“Jesus, Rule! You mean Isen told him—”
“Toby already knew about our enemy.”
“He’s only nine!”
“He knows our history. Not in detail, but he knows she is our Lady’s enemy, and therefore ours.”
“There’s a difference between hearing ancient history and being told that a super-powerful Old One wants to kill you and everyone you love right now.”
“Why would we not tell him the truth?”
“Maybe because it will scare the crap out of him?”
He paused for a handful of heartbeats. “Fear is part of living. I can’t spare him that. Toby is a child, yes, so many decisions are made for him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve honesty. If Isen is right—and Toby understands that we aren’t certain of her involvement—Toby’s life is in danger. That’s why he has to stay at here—for the physical security, and because her magic can’t penetrate Clanhome’s borders.”
Her magic can’t penetrate … something clicked into place in Lily’s mind. And oh, but she did not like how well it fit. “What about the other Nokolai children?” she said slowly. “If Toby’s in danger …”
“Toby’s danger is greatest because neither Nokolai nor Leidolf has another clear heir. He’s an obvious target.” Rule’s mouth tightened. “But Isen is considering having all Nokolai’s children brought to Clanhome and offering to take in the children of our subject clans. I’m not sure what I’ll do. Leidolf doesn’t have the funds or facilities Nokolai does.” He squeezed her hand, then let go and stood. “You need fuel. I’ll get you some chicken and dumplings.”