“Then how did you . . . oh.” Cullen had been born to Etorri, not Nokolai. Etorri was a very small clan, steeped in honor, and—for complicated historical reasons—the heir’s portion of their mantle was shared among all Etorri lupi, not just the one their Rho named heir. Which was—natch—a secret, and meant that Cullen had been a mantle-holder once. Only a small bit of a mantle, but he’d been there, done that, and had apparently been given both the T-shirt and the secret handshake. “You’re breaking the rules by telling me this.”
“Technically, you’re carrying a mantle now yourself. And you need to understand why Rule’s control is splintering.”
She glanced at the hole in the wall. “That’s not hard to understand.”
“If all he does is put his fist through a wall now and then, we’ll be lucky. Rule believes the Lady has betrayed him.”
“Because she shoved this thing into me without clueing us in about the consequences? That pisses me off, too.” Lily had had to give permission, but apparently Old Ones didn’t worry about informed consent.
“Lily.” He sighed. “The Wythe mantle is doing something it should not be able to do. Mantles don’t send out little roots. They are controlled by their holders—within limits for the heirs, and entirely by the Rhos. There’s only one exception, one way the mantles can act without direction by a Rho. They are of the Lady. If a mantle starts doing something wholly new, we have to think that she’s directing it.”
“She’s making it try to kill me?”
“That’s unlikely,” the Leidolf Rhej said.
Lily damn near dropped the coffeepot. “Dammit, how did you do that? You’re not lupus. You shouldn’t be able to come down those stairs that quietly.”
The woman smiled wearily. “Maybe you’re a little preoccupied.”
Maybe so. “Why do you think the Lady isn’t trying to kill me?”
“If you die, the Wythe mantle is lost.”
Oh. That was a lot better answer than the sort of “have faith” argument Lily had been expecting. “Then maybe she’s just not very good at whatever she’s doing.”
“Could be. We don’t have any idea what she is doin.’ As far as we know, she hasn’t fiddled with a mantle since she changed Etorri’s, but Cullen says she’s doin’ something to this one. Whatever she has in mind, though, I’m sure she doesn’t want you to die, which is why I agreed with Mr. Gorgeous here about what we might do to help a bit.”
“What do you mean?”
“I hadn’t told her that part,” Cullen said.
“Good. You makin’ coffee, honey? I could sure use some.” She headed for the table, moving as if her body was twice as heavy as it had been earlier.
Lily suppressed her impatience and grabbed the kettle. “Coffee’s coming. What did you do that left you so tired?”
“Made some phone calls, then spent some time in the memories.” She sat at the big, round table with a sigh.
When the Rhej said she’d spent time “in the memories,” she meant she’d essentially relived certain events. The memories were just that—actual memories magically preserved and passed from Rhej to Rhej. A lot of them were from the Great War. All of them involved key events, which meant heaping doses of disaster, death, betrayal, battle, pain, tragedy . . . and, now and then, triumph.
Also—now and then—spells. Spells such as hadn’t been cast since the Purge. Spells that had been lost centuries before the Purge. Adept-level spells, some of them. Which was one reason Cullen was so damn twitchy about Rhejes. They knew things he desperately wanted to learn, and they weren’t talking.
Maybe there was a spell that would help Lily now. She put the kettle on the stove, glanced toward the front of the house, then at the Rhej. “I hope it was worth it. You learned something?”
“A technique that hasn’t been used for a very long time. The Wythe Rhej—she was one of those phone calls—agreed to try it. The idea is to pull enough power out of the mantle that it has to slow down on healin’ you. Slower healin’ should mean less damage. In addition to that, I want you to stay close to Rule. Physically close. The mate bond may be able to help.”
Lily’s eyebrows shot up. “She can pull power from the mantle? I knew she could pull power from the clan as a whole, but to take it directly from the mantle . . . that seems like a different deal.”
“It is,” the Rhej said grimly. “And it is not recommended. It makes the mantle vulnerable. Lily, you’re Lady-touched, so it’s okay for you to know about this, but you can’t speak of it to anyone. Neither of you can.” She fixed Cullen with a firm stare. “Rhej’s seal.”
“I have no objection to secrets,” he said, “as long as I’m the one keeping them.” He made a graceful gesture with one hand, touching his lips then his heart. “It is sealed, serra.”
The kettle started whistling as the Rhej turned that imperative stare on Lily.
“Sure,” Lily said, retrieving the kettle. “Except for Rule, of course.”
The Rhej shook her head. “Especially not Rule.” “Serra—” Cullen began.
“No. None of the Rhos are to know about this.”
Too late. “I can’t agree to that.”
“Nor can I,” Rule said from the doorway.
“Good timing.” Lily poured steaming water into the French press. “Coffee’s almost ready.”
RULE breathed deeply of the kitchen’s smells—the richness of coffee blended with undertones from last night’s shepherd’s pie, the spicy-sharp meatiness of corned beef, notes of lupus from Cullen . . . and Lily. It smelled of Lily. “I gather you found a way to drain power from the mantle.”
The Rhej frowned unhappily. “I gather you were eavesdropping.”
“I overheard, yes, but how is it eavesdropping to walk into my own home?” He walked up behind Lily and put his arms around her from behind. She leaned back into him. He closed his eyes, wishing they could stand here, just stand here like this, for an hour or two. “If it makes you feel better, I will honor the Rhej’s seal you have declared on this knowledge.”
“Not much,” she said dryly, “but it’s something. We’re hopin’ that draining the mantle some might help Lily.”
“Did help,” Cullen corrected, “or so it seems.”
Rule stood quietly, holding Lily while the coffee steeped and the others told him about Lily’s latest brain-bolt—that was her term—her temporary banishment from the investigation, and about what Cullen and the Rhej had discussed . . . a discussion they’d purposefully left him out of. He didn’t bother being angry about that. His anger had more important targets.
“. . . basically, we hoped slowin’ the healing would slow the occurrence of the TIAs,” the Rhej finished. “And drainin’ the mantle was the one way we could think of to slow things down.”
“That seems clear, yes,” he said, sipping the coffee Lily had handed him. She was taking her own mug over to the table. He sent her a smile. “You’ve gotten good at coffee.”
“It’s a matter of priorities.” She sat beside the Rhej. “Coffee’s important.”
Priorities. Yes, he’d learned something about his this day. He sat beside her. “I also heard something about us staying physically close. It seems a good idea. The mate bond has sometimes helped.”
The Rhej’s eyebrows lifted. “You figured that out on your own, Rule? That the healing was causing the problem?”
“Once I’d run a few miles I did, or suspected it, at least. Sam agrees.”
“Sam?” This time it was Lily’s eyebrows that shot up. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have phone service.”
“Sam is able to mindspeak through any of the other dragons, if they agree to allow it. I persuaded Mika this was important enough to make such a contact. The three of us, ah . . . discussed your condition.” Before they could talk about Lily’s condition, Mika had briefed Sam about what he’d observed during his training session with Lily.