“Samson had it this whole time.”
“Impossible. I would’ve been able to sense. . .” He came to a full stop, movement and speech. “She shielded it.”
“I was hoping you could clarify how even Pan doesn’t seem to know about it,” Jo folded her arms, leaning against one of the pillars that surrounded the fireplace at the center of the room.
“When Hunt said she would make a weapon, she kept the details secluded from the other gods, afraid that the information would somehow get back to Pan—rightfully so, because it did. The only thing she assured us was that Pan would not, under any circumstances, know of the arrow’s existence—it was to be shielded from her touch. But perhaps I. . . Perhaps it was shielded from her gaze as well.”
Jo’s eyes ping-ponged across the room, following Snow as he paced. “She gave it to her chosen champion. When I touched the arrow, I saw its history,” Jo clarified at his immediate confusion. “He was going to take the arrow and slay Pan with it. Or, try to. But when the Age of Gods ended, he forgot this purpose . . . he only remembered that the arrow was important and passed it on to someone else. Who passed it on to someone else, from generation to generation. . .”
“Until Samson. And it followed him into the Society as the current champion,” Snow pieced together, almost correctly.
“Not quite. It followed Samson into the Society, yes . . . but not because he was the champion.”
“Then who?”
“Takako.”
“Of course.” Snow sat heavily on the bed, bringing a hand to his forehead. “Her ancient lineage of magic came from Hunt’s champion. Why it persisted all this time. . .”
“And why her magic is what it is,” Jo finished for him. “Takako is ready to be the champion, and we have the arrow. So—”
“You set out to make a bow,” Snow interjected.
“Yes. How did you know?” A frown pulled on her cheeks. No matter what the reason, Jo didn’t think it was a good one.
“Pan came to brag to me about thwarting your plans. Gloating about whatever chaos she’s creating is a sort of pastime for her.” The distant look that glossed over Snow’s eyes told Jo that she didn’t want to know what else Pan had done, or forced Snow to endure knowledge of. “She said she was going to bring you and that she’d taken what you were making—a weapon. Which I’m presuming to be a bow now that I know you have the arrow.”
“It is. We went to High Luana and got a bough from the Life Tree to carve it.”
“The elves agreed to that?” Snow said with equal measures of shock and pride.
“We convinced them it was in their best interest, and they had little choice.” Jo pushed off the column, crossing over to take his hands in hers. “Snow, we can end this.” She omitted the words her mind treacherously would not let her forget—that to end it could mean her death. Jo didn’t want that weighing on Snow. She didn’t want him trying to talk her out of the decision, or hesitating. He knew Pan could not die as long as she lived, so surely, somewhere, he also knew what was on the line. “But I need to find the bow. If she bragged to you about the bow then she likely didn’t destroy it, right?”
He nodded. “I don’t think she would destroy it. Pan is a hoarder. She enjoys the feeling of possessing too much.”
That sounded about right. “Then, do you know where she might be keeping it? Once I get it, I’ll bring down the walls and let in the team to finish her.”
“I cannot cross the threshold of that door.” Snow nodded toward the entrance Jo had come through. “At least not without Pan’s invitation. Sometimes, it leads to throne rooms where I give messages to the people, maintaining the illusion of my rule—but never anything else.”
Whatever frustration she felt toward not knowing the arrow’s location paled in comparison to the visceral anger at Snow’s treatment. “I will kill her,” Jo muttered under her breath, never more resolved.
Snow squeezed her hands tightly. “But I have some ideas.”
“You do?”
“I know enough from the Society and before. . . She usually likes to keep things squirreled away in a central treasure room.” As he spoke, Jo’s mind filled with images of Pan’s room—the horde of treasures condensed at her innermost sanctum. After all the illusions had vanished, all there had been was Pan and her treasures.
“I think I have an idea. . .” Jo whispered, clarity dawning on her.
Just when she opened her mouth to speak, there was a knock on the door. Jo glared angrily at it, gripping Snow’s hands even tighter, as though she could cling to him hard enough that she wouldn’t be taken away. His hands went slack and Jo looked back in a panic she couldn’t fight.
“You have to go,” he said quickly. “Don’t fight it, do what must be done, stay focused.”
“I’ll come back for you,” Jo whispered hastily, as if everything they said could suddenly be heard.
“I’ll be waiting,” Snow said, as if there were anywhere else he could be. It made the words all the more sorrowful.
Jo’s heart broke as she walked for the door, and rage filled the cracks. She gave the handle a mighty yank, feeling the whole thing strain under her touch. It was a satisfying reaffirmation that, yes, even Pan’s magic could be broken. Jo had been ready to unleash her anger at Pan next, but she stopped short.
