“He’s been transferred to theSanctum Occulus,”Valor said gently. “They will take good care of him there, Leda. The Obeah are very protective of their own.”
“There’s no doubt––” I began.
“None whatsoever.” He again sounded apologetic. “They have already accepted him at the Sanctum. Their representative came to evaluate him personally after all the other tests were run, and conferred his new status on the spot. He’d left with your brother by the time I got summoned to the Ethnarch’s chambers.”
Valor hesitated again, as if unsure whether I’d understand the import of this.
“The blood issue does not seem to concern them, if that is any reassurance,” he added carefully. “Like you, Arcturus tested very highly within the standards used by Obeah to evaluate talent among their own. They seemed quite pleased to have him. There has not been a La Fey born into the Obeah in at least six hundred years.”
Silence fell between us once Valor finished speaking.
I knew the silence was my fault.
I knew I should say or ask ordosomething.
My cousin cleared his throat.
“There are legal requirements in a case such as this,” he continued, his voice still cautious. “The Ethnarch’s office is notified of any caste reassignments. Also, the nearest kin to any Magical who changes classification must be told, legally, within seventy-two hours of the change. The determination was made just a few hours ago for Arcturus, but once the Ethnarch was told, he thought it better to deliver the news before you had begun classes.”
Valor coughed.
“The Ethnarch had originally thought to come himself, until it was deemed unwise by his security team.” His voice and face remained difficult to read.
“…I volunteered,” he added, somewhat unnecessarily.
I nodded.
“Okay,” I said.
I didn’t trust myself to say much more than that. I didn’t know my cousin at all, but I wanted to shake him by his fancy black cloak, maybe scream a few obscenities while demanding that he explain to me what any of thisactuallymeant.
My cousin, seemingly at a loss, probably because I was acting like someone with a concussion, turned to leave.
Unthinking, I grabbed his arm before he could complete the motion.
“He’ll live here, though?” I asked. “Here, in Magique?”
Valor’s eyes relaxed.
“Yes. Of course he will, cousin.” He patted my hand soothingly. “Arcturus will be fine. It’s better, really, to have him identified now rather than later. If he’d been forced to wait until he was of age, he’d be at a considerable disadvantage among his peers. Obeah are different than us. They train differently. He’ll make up the distance in schooling much faster now.”
I nodded, barely hearing the last few things he said.
I still gripped his arm in my fingers.
“Can I visit him?” I asked.
“I––” He hesitated, then smiled reassuringly. “Sadly, I don’t think right away, cousin. Of course, once he’s had some time to adjust, youabsolutelycan. The timing of that is something you would need to discuss with the Sanctum officials. My understanding is that they allow no visits at all for a specified period… perhaps a few months… likely not longer than a year. After that, supervised visits are allowed, even encouraged. Once he comes of age, either of you can visit the other whenever you wish.”
“Oh.” I felt an odd mixture of shock, relief, and anxiety. “Oh. Okay.” I wiped my eyes, realizing with some embarrassment I was crying. Some part of me had fully expected Valor to tell me I’d never see my brother again.
“All right,” I said, under my breath. “Okay. That’s good, then.”
When I glanced up, Valor’s expression had softened.
He opened his mouth, as if to speak, then stopped, as if he’d remembered something. His lips firmed as he reached into his cloak pocket, and after some searching, pulled out a scroll and handed to me. The thick roll of parchment had been sealed by wax, with an iridescent insignia I didn’t recognize.
“This is the formal notification,” he said. “It may explain a few things.”
