“Of course. It is your choice.” Casimya closed the book. “But consider this. Waiting for Igryside to attack is also a choice. And not necessarily a safer one.”
She was right. Damn it, she was right.
I walked back to our family quarters alone, turning the problem over in my mind. Find Tyreen. Use blood magic. Risk exhaustion and potential failure. Risk that she might not want to help, might not even remember my family.
But what was the alternative? Wait for Igryside to attack? Hope we could defend ourselves with no information and no plan?
No. That wasn’t acceptable.
By the time I reached our chambers, I knew what I had to do. I just needed to talk to Mal first.
***
That evening, I was in the library surrounded by books about Igryside when Mal found me. The sun had set hours ago. I’d missed dinner. I was pretty sure I’d missed several other things too, but I couldn’t stop reading.
He didn’t ask what I was doing or why I was stress-researching at this ungodly hour. He just sat down beside me and waited, patient as always, until I was ready to talk.
His fingers intertwined with mine on the table, an anchor when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
I closed the book I’d been pretending to read for the last ten minutes and finally looked at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, and I wondered how much sleep he’d gotten last night.
“Casimya thinks I should find my old coven. Someone named Tyreen.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” I pulled my hand free to run it through my hair, frustrated with myself, with the situation, with everything. “It’s been so long. They might not want to help. They might not even remember my family. Or worse, they might blame my grandparents for the coven falling apart.”
“It is your choice. Your family, your magic.” He recaptured my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Whatever you decide, I support you.”
“You’re not going to tell me what to do?”
His mouth quirked in that way that always made my stomach flip. “When have I ever successfully told you what to do?”
“Fair point.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both of us thinking. The library was quiet around us, the only sound the occasional crackle of candles and the distant footsteps of guards on patrol.
“We can wait,” he said finally, still stroking my hand. “Do nothing. Hope Igryside backs down or gets distracted by another target.”
“They won’t. I read they’re obsessed with rare magic. With immortality. They probably want Killian and I for their creepy collection.”
“You’re right. They will not stop.” His jaw tightened. “Which means we cannot afford to sit here and hope for the best.”
“We can be proactive. Find Tyreen. Learn how my family fought them before. Get actual information instead of just waiting to be attacked.”
“Yes.”
I stood, pulling him up with me. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To check on Killian. I need to see him before I can think about anything else.”
Killian’s room was dark and still. We opened the door carefully and stood in the doorway, watching him sleep. He was sprawled across his bed in a position that looked deeply uncomfortable, limbs everywhere. The flower crown had fallen off and was lying on his pillow. His dragon shirt had ridden up to show his little belly, and he was snoring softly.
So small and vulnerable. So completely unaware that monsters from another realm wanted to hurt him.
Over my dead body would anyone touch him.
