“I trusted you. I’ve known you since you were twelve years old. You’ve stayed at our house.” Solentine’s voice rose, raw with anguish. “You’ve eaten our food. My father taught you how to handle a dagger. You stood right here, in this hall, and swore to aid my family in every battle!” Solentine swept the bottle off his desk and hurled it against the wall. It bounced and rolled across the floor, coming to rest at Everard’s feet.
“You were the closest thing I had to a brother.”
Word for word.
This was not normal. Why was this happening?
A faint slapping sound pulsed through the room.
This had to have some sort of significance. In most portal fantasies, heroines who popped into books wrote down everything they remembered in some secret diary so they wouldn’t forget it. Apparently, that was not going to be an issue for me.
Slap.
Maybe I justthoughtthis was perfect recall. I didn’t have the book in front of me, so I couldn’t compare. But it seemed right, it felt right . . .
Slap-slap.
What the hell was that noise?
I stood up, leaning over the desk.
An eighteen-inch fish lay on the floor between the open door and my desk. It was white striped with orange and speckled with red and turquoise, and it resembled a bug-eyed red snapper with long fins.
Was I seeing things?
I held still and listened. The study was empty.
I looked over my shoulder. I could see my bedroom through the doorway, and it was empty, too.
I looked back. The fish was still there.
No strange sounds. No intruders lurking in the corners.
The fish flopped, slapping its tail against the floor.
I jerked back.
Slap. Slap-slap.
The sound of someone’s steps as they ran up the stairs came from the hall, and Will appeared in the doorway. He saw the fish and halted.
“Fish,” I told him.
“I see it.”
Oh good. I wasn’t imagining it.
“Where did it come from?” Will asked.
“I have no idea. It wasn’t there when I came in.”
“How did it get here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it magic?”
“I don’t know.”
