I suppose I did worry they’d overreact, or that Draken, especially, would be unwilling to stay silent to protect Bones. I worried that even if they did agree to stay silent, just their knowing made it exponentially more likely someone else would find out. They’d let something slip, or someone highly trained in the seeing arts would read it from their minds. More than anything, though, I didn’t say anything because I knew Bones didn’t want me to.
He saved my life. In all likelihood, he saved my brother’s life.
I owed him my silence, at least.
For the same reason, my friends only knew the official story.
I’d received notice of my aunt’s death the previous year via a drakai, one of those fiery, bat-winged creatures with ruddy, human-like faces. It had been sent by the Ethnarch’s office, and only contained an official notice of her “death by magical misadventure.” Two days later, I got a second letter that gave me vague, unsatisfying information about what would happen to my brother, and a short passage about my aunt’s will, which left all her worldly possessions to a fully Magical son of hers I hadn’t even known existed.
I’d shown both letters to Miranda, Draken, Jolie, Luc, Darragh, and Nyx at dinner in the Grathrock dining hall. Therewas nothing in them that felt particularly private, or particularly surprising, and I suppose I felt guilty about how little I’d been able to share with them, so I wanted to give themsomething.
Miranda and Draken had been predictably supportive.
Jolie, Luc, and Darragh were quieter.
They also seemed the least convinced that Ankha’s death had been due to a “ritual gone wrong,” which was the story that finally made the London papers.
Jolie told me later, when we were sitting on my bed in Grathrock with Wraith, watching her bat my letters around with her paw on top of the duvet, that it read to her like they either didn’t know how Ankha died, or they knew and didn’t want the information public. When Jolie asked Luc his thoughts at breakfast the next day, he agreed with her.
Given they were probably the two smartest people I knew, apart from Alaric, Forsooth, and maybe, regrettably, Bones, their agreement definitely made my anxiety worse.
“Hey.” Miranda waved a hand in front of my face. “What do you think? It sounds fun, right? I mean, you’ve got a little while to decide yet, of course…” Miranda trailed, biting her lip. “And I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, even apart from school. I won’t be offended, truly, if you decide against it, but I honestly think it would begoodfor you. You don’t want toonlyhave memories of the library when you graduate, do you?”
I fought to refocus on my friend. Shoving my anxious thoughts to the background about Magical prison, Bones, and the fact that my brother was right now somewhere inside the Sanctum Occulus, surrounded by strange Magicals, I forced a smile.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” I said.
“That’s all I was asking,” Miranda said, although I knew it wasn’t, really. She hesitated. “And Leda, you know…” She reddened a bit. “I promise not to set you up on any morescary, awful,rapey,double dates. I swear, I never would haveconsideredasking you to come along, if I’d known that idiot would do something so utterlyfoul––”
I immediately waved her off.
“Of course you wouldn’t have,” I said, dismissively. “Honestly, Mir. You have to stop apologizing for that. Nothing happened. And I never once saw that as your fault. How could you havepossiblyknown what revolting little weasels they’d both be?”
Miranda nodded, but still looked uncomfortable.
“He’ll be okay, you know,” she said next, obviously guessing at least part of what preoccupied me. She laid a hand warmly on my leg, her voice sympathetic. “Arcturus. Your cousin’s right. This is better for him. And at least you’ll know he’s safe.”
A real smile slowly curved her lips.
“And hey, you have an Obeah in the family! That’s considered a real status thing, you know? Even among a lot of royals. Not only are Obeah super smart and ridiculously well-educated and all-seeing around magic, they tend to make the big bucks once they’re fully trained. It’s ahighlysought-after skill. They use Obeah for all kinds of things, in every industry, and it’s incredibly rare, so he’ll have his pick of jobs.”
I turned over her words.
I honestly hadn’t considered the practical side of his classification. I didn’t much care about the family status thing Mir mentioned, but I definitely liked the idea that my brother would be set up for life, with his choice of places to work.
There was no doubt my baby brother had always been unusual.
My parents used to joke about it, in a fond sort of way.
He’d always been careful of strangers. He picked up on things about other people faster than anyone I’d ever known,things that either made him bond enthusiastically with a person instantly, or distrust, dislike, or even fear them just as instantly.
I used to think that made him a good judge of character. Now I guessed he’d been picking up on their magical and non-magical auras. Because he had that strange, Obeah vision into people’s frequencies, he’d noticed things I had no way of seeing.
Mir was right. I should be happy he was in Magique. My aunt could no longer hurt him, or threaten him, or use him to threaten me. Jolie and Luc both assured me the Sanctum Occulus was a literal fortress.Everyoneagreed with what Valor had said, that the Obeah looked out for their own. Arcturus would be safe with them, now they’d accepted him.
I should be relieved.
I definitely shouldn’t be trying to think up any excuse possible to ask a certain son of the royals whathethought about my brother’s chances in the Sanctum Occulus.
