Ianthe threw herself at Lucien, flinging her gauntleted fist up in front of them. Her wards invoked themselves a split second before a wave of force smashed into the pair of them, sending them cartwheeling across the manicured lawns.
When she came to, she was breathing heavily into Lucien's coat with his arms curled around her. Her entire body ached, like some enormous hand had just reached out and swatted her.
All along the street, porches tumbled from their frames and tiles slid from rooves. Startled heads popped out of door and windows to see what was going on.
"Are you all right?" Lucien demanded. She could feel his concern along the bond between them.
"Ouch." She winced in reply. "What on earth was that?"
Lucien helped her to sit up. "Expression."
Of the group, only Drake was on his feet, staggering with his hands outspread as he dispersed the ripples of pure power and grounded them back into the earth. The ground stopped shaking and silence fell, as if everything nearby had felt it. A squirrel shot past, fleeing for the undergrowth.
Adrian Bishop helped Lady Eberhardt to her feet, and the woman looked spitting mad as she pulled her skirts down over her stockinged legs. The stone lion she'd brought with her butted his head against her.
"This," said Lady Eberhardt, throwing Drake a concerned look, "this is not good. Who could draw so much power? If Morgana has that on her side, then she might be well-nigh undefeatable."
If Lady Eberhardt sounded worried... Ianthe looked to Lucien.
"It's Morgana's son," Lucien said, helping her to her feet. He nodded toward Drake. "It's my brother, this Sebastian."
"Three brothers," Lady Eberhardt muttered. "Three relics. This isn't going to end well."
Drake gasped, lowering his hands as the last of the sorcery melted away.
"Brother?" Bishop asked, shooting Lucien a hard look.
"Surprise. There are three of us." Lucien shrugged. "It's always the youngest of the family who throws the biggest tantrums. Or so I've heard." Then he paused. "Or are you the youngest? I never did quite work out where you fit in the family."
"Bishop's the youngest," Lady Eberhardt said. "His mother helped console Drake following the divorce."
Bishop ignored the pair of them. "That was not a tantrum." One of his Sicarii blades formed in his hands.
"Oh, he can get louder if he wants," Lucien replied. "Nearly buried us beneath half of Highgrove Cemetery last night."
"Stop it," Ianthe said, seeing the flash of pain on Drake's face. "And put that away," she told Bishop. "You are not killing your brother."
Bishop and Lucien traded glances that seemed to echo each other. Despite the physical differences between them, the resemblance was almost uncanny in that instant.
"How do you plan to stop him?" Bishop asked. With a flick of his fingers, the knife vanished into thin air.
Ianthe crossed to Drake's side, seeing the worry in his eyes. "Can you deflect Sebastian's power? Can you stop him from tearing the city apart?"
"Maybe," he said.
"If you had help?"
Drake considered it, then looked toward Lucien. "If someone offered up their well of power, I might be able to contain him, or disperse his sorcery if it flares again."
"It's going to flare," Lady Eberhardt said. "I can feel it building again."
"You're potentially the strongest here," Drake said, looking directly at Lucien.
Ianthe held her breath.
"And I can barely manage to tie my own shoelaces with sorcery at the moment," Lucien said bitterly. He looked down at his feet with a frown, then sighed and slowly stretched out his hand. "Take what you need. Use me as your wellspring."
A flood of heat and pride filled her. The man she'd first encountered—the bitter, vengeful duke—was slowly vanishing, leaving behind a man who weighed his sense of duty against his feelings of hate and did the right thing. Ianthe's heart clenched in her chest and her lungs seized. This was a man she could both admire and respect.
