“Any of it,” Justin said, arms crossed over his chest. “You told her Bethesda’s plan, gave her advice on how to tear down our negotiating position for a treaty, and then you financed her escape.” He bared his teeth. “You’ve betrayed the clan so many times tonight, I don’t even know where I’m going to start when I call Mother.”
“Tell her whatever you want,” Julius said. “Just don’t forget to mention that Bob was the one who sent Katya here in the first place.”
“Don’t hide behind him,” his brother growled. “Bob’s motives have always been questionable, but he didn’t tell you to blabber clan business to the enemy’ssister.”
“At least we’re doing something!” Julius cried. “From what I saw at the mountain, Mother’s acting like this whole seer business is a done deal already. She doesn’t even seem to care that she’s walking into a trap.”
“Of course not,” Justin said. “When someone attacks you, you don’t sit around fretting and wringing your hands. You attack them back without hesitation. It’s called audacity. If you want to win, you have to be willing to go for it, even if that means eating some losses.”
“Losses?” Julius cried. “Justin, you’re talking aboutus. When Mother takes losses,we’rewhat she loses. Not pawns, not assets. Us, herchildren,and it’s wrong. We’re individuals with our own goals and feelings. We’re not pieces to be thrown away.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“Oh yeah?” Julius said. “How would you like it if she threwyouaway?”
“We both know she won’t throwmeaway. I’m too good.”
He said this like it was undeniable fact, and Julius bet that, to Justin, it was. He also bet it was what every other self-important Heartstriker thought right before Bethesda maneuvered them into position. Too bad his brother had a vested interest in never understanding that. Bethesda was the source of all his importance: the head of his clan, the queen to his knight. He’d be loyal to her right up to the moment she stuck his head on a spit. Being at the bottom of the clan, Julius had grown up with a very different view, and having already avoided being his mother’s fall guy once before, he was dead-set determined to never let himself, or anyone else, be put in that position ever again.
“Well, I’m not waiting around to get used again,” Julius growled. “Conrad’s already paid the price for Mother not taking this seriously. If we don’t want to—”
“Funny thing, about that,” Justin interrupted, folding his arms over his chest. “I just got off the phone with Frieda back at the mountain, and she says Conrad’s fine.” He gave Julius a superior look. “Looks like yourfriendlied to you about that one. Wanna try again?”
That didn’t add up to Julius. Why would Katya have lied about the attack? But while he was sure something funny was going on, he was too angry to even contemplate what that might be. He loved Justin, he really did, but his brother could be a world-class jerk sometimes. He certainly seemed to be going for a record today, and with everything else falling apart around his ears, Julius had officially had enough.
“You know what? I don’t even care!” he yelled. “You’re always going on about how I should be a dragon and stand up for myself, but all of that starts with refusing to be a pawn!”
“You didn’t stand up for yourself!” Justin yelled. “You told an outsider secret information to help her engineer a situation where Bethesda is forced into a life debt with another clan! That’s not refusing to be a pawn. That’s just selling out yourfamilyto theenemy.”
“When are you going to get it through your head that Katya’s not our enemy?” Julius cried. “She’s fighting against Estella just like us. That makes her ourally, and we need those more than ever.” He clenched his fists. “The clan is my family as much as it is yours. I want to keep it safe just like you do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit around protecting Mother’s secrets while she decides which one of us she wants to throw under the bus. And youknowshe’ll do just that, because it’swhat she always does!If she goes ahead with her plan to trap Estella, who knows how many of us will go down with it? At least my way doesn’t call for losses except for Bethesda’s pride, which we can both agree is no loss at all.”
“Oh, please,” Justin sneered. “Would you get over yourself already? You’re not some special snowflake, Julius. We’re in a clan war here. Dragons are going to die, that’s just how it is. It’s not Mother’s job to save our lives. It’s her job towin—surviving to enjoy the victory is our responsibility.”
“Maybe it shouldn’t be,” Julius growled. “Maybe, and I know this sounds crazy, but justmaybeif we worked together and helped each other instead of always going every dragon for himself, we wouldn’t get into these kind of doomed, eat-or-be-eaten situations in the first place!”
“Spoken like a true failure,” Justin said, shaking his head. “But maybe ifyougot better at not dying, you wouldn’t need all that help all the time.”
Julius’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t even know why I’m talking about this with you,” he grumbled, stomping into the house. “You tell Mother whatever you want. I’m going upstairs to help Marci try to keep us all from getting killed by Vann Jeger.”
“Why bother?” Justin yelled after him. “I already told you I’ve got it.”
“Then feel free to go to sleep,” Julius yelled back.
He felt guilty as soon as the words left his lips. He’d just promised Marci he was going to stand up to his brother and tell him he wasn’t going to be facing Vann Jeger, but he was sosickof fighting. It wasn’t like Justin would listen, anyway. He’d just call Julius weak again and do whatever he wanted anyway. At this point, his best shot at saving his brother was to help Marci break her curse and avoid fighting Vann Jeger at all. Maybe then Justin would actually survive to see Julius and Katya’s plan work. Not that the ungrateful jerk deserved it.
That angry thought just made him feel depressed, but Julius didn’t have time to mope about it. His family crisis with Justin was going to have to get in line behind all the others, because right now, he had to make good on his promise to Marci. With that, he put the conversation with his brother determinedly out of his mind and started up the steps, climbing them two at a time toward Marci’s lab to offer his help however he could.
Chapter 8
What was left of the night passed in a haze.
Marci worked like a machine, using up every casting marker and stick of chalk in her workshop as she went through spells one after another after another trying to crack the curse. She tried dusts and powders from her stockpile. She drew spellwork on her skin, on Julius’s skin, and even around where Ghost was sleeping on his bed in the corner. At one point, she actually made a perfect double of herself using a circle written in her own blood—a technique she later admitted she’d gotten from a blood mage forum—to try and trick the Sword of Damocles into jumping over. But no matter what she tried, the black sword on her neck didn’t budge, and with each failure, Marci’s expression grew more bitterly determined until she seemed to be plowing through spellwork on sheer stubbornness.
If things had been less dire, it would have been an amazing thing to watch. Julius had never known human magic could be cast in so many ways. As promised, he helped wherever he could, fetching things down off of high shelves and keeping her stocked with coffee. He would have liked to do more, but a month wasn’t enough to pick up even the basics of the incredibly complicated world of Thaumaturgic magic. Mostly, he acted as her battery, letting her siphon magic off of him once her own stockpiled reagents ran dry.
After what had happened with Bixby’s goons, Marci had never asked to use his magic again. Given how uncomfortable that first time was, Julius had been happy to leave it at that. Now, though, things were too dire for him to be squeamish, but in a rare stroke of luck, Marci’s pull on his magic didn’t feel nearly as bad this time around. Not being in a rage and facing down a horde of gunmen, she was almost dainty about it, taking his magic in tiny sips over the course of multiple hours. But even with her extra care, the cumulative draw took its toll.
By the time the darkness under the skyways began to shift from the neon-lit night black to the sooty, almost-black of morning, Julius felt like he’d run twelve marathons in a row. Every muscle in his body throbbed, and he could barely smell anymore. He tried to soldier on—this was life or death, after all—but when Marci scrubbed out her latest failed circle and began to draw three more, Julius reached his end.
