Emrys coughed into his hand, clearly trying not to laugh.
Camille, utterly unfazed, poured the tea. “Maerya, Nibble. Play nice. We need both of you intact for what’s coming.”
“I won’t bite,” Nibble said, fluttering down and landing—deliberately—too close to Maerya.
She didn’t flinch. “Do, and I’ll hex your wings into celery stalks.”
They stared at each other, the air cracking with tension.
And then Maerya smirked.
“Fine,” she said. “Don’t steal my offerings again.”
“Only the useful ones,” Nibble replied and tucked himself into a nearby shelf.
Camille handed Orren a cup of tea and winked at him. “Told you they’d get along.”
The kettle was empty and cold when Emrys finished telling our story. Silence covered the room, disturbed only by the crackling of the fire and Nibble’s soft snoring.
All eyes rested on me. Camille was tapping her lip with a finger, and Maerya was twisting one of her many rings.
“So Daphne somehow captured Clio, kept her for years, then used her to break the wards keeping Emrys in?” Orren asked, rubbing his beard.
Emrys shrugged. “That’s it in a nutshell. Clio is after her now. She seems to be obsessed with her.”
“She got Arthur,” I said. Emrys covered my hand with his and squeezed. I closed my eyes for a moment, grateful for his touch. “I’ll grieve later. Let’s finish what we started in Paris.”
Maerya slurped her lukewarm tea and hooked a braid behind her ear, revealing a crescent moon tattoo. “So you wantus to protect you and Daphne while you tap into the ley line and get your power back? While the Renegade throws all his forces at us?” she asked, her tone even. It was really hard to read that woman. Was she sarcastic?
Emrys crossed his arms. “That’s the plan, yes. He’ll do anything to get to me in my” — he coughed as if to hide his embarrassment — “weakened state. I’ll reclaim the ley line’s power. Cut the Renegade off to restore balance. No more Hollowborn. No more Twisted Ones. Just quiet again.”
“That’s where you come in, Maerya,” Camille said, her voice firm. Her joking, flirtatious demeanor was suddenly gone, as if the bright paint of the opera singer had peeled, and something sharp, calloused by centuries of life, peeked from beneath. “You know those chambers and traps better than anyone. Help us slow them down until Emrys and Daphne complete the ritual.”
The desert woman grinned morbidly. “You know how I hate intruders in the sacred halls. I’ll take you to your Surge and prepare a nice, juicy surprise for that filth.”
“Glad you agreed to help us,” Emrys said.
“If we fail, these sands won’t just whisper anymore,” Maerya murmured, playing with a snake bracelet high on her arm. “They’ll scream. I know your Renegade and what he’s capable of.”
Silence settled in the room, everyone lost in their thoughts. I glanced around—so many kinds of power gathered in one place.
Camille, with her velvet voice and devil-may-care smirk; Orren, whose bones carried the strength of ancient forests; Maerya, who’d refused a god’s hand and lived to tellthe tale. And Emrys—wounded, raw, barely holding himself together—still felt like the center of gravity. And me? A girl who’d fallen into a story far older than herself. Who once thought survival was enough. But now they looked at me like I was more than just a survivor. Like I mattered. Power wasn’t what you were born with. It was what you refused. What you endured. What you chose.
Emrys shuffled in his chair. “The Surge is in two days. We have some time to prepare and go over the details. Stay alert. The Renegade spies had probably picked up our trail. Miss Daphne. Why don’t you change into something more… adequate for this city and join me?”
“Join you where?”
“Exploring the city of the pharaohs, of course.”
My stomach fluttered with excitement. To see the lands Grandfather told me magical stories about?
“Readier than ever,” I said.
Daphne
The City of Memories and Pharaohs
“W
