“Do you mind if Simon lets out his wings?” Baz asks. “They’re injured.”
“Oh, of course!” she says. “The wings are always welcome. I wish I could walk around with wings.”
I take off my jacket, and Baz casts,“Like a glove!”—which makes the shirt tailor itself around my wings. It’s probably the best way to deal with them, but I can’t count on Baz and Penny always being around to cast it for me.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Lady Ruth says, herding us into the dining room. “I may have gone overboard on the sandwiches, even for me—but we are celebrating.Jamie!” she shouts. “The boys are here!”
“Great snakes . . .” I say. The dining room table is cramjammed with food. Finger sandwiches, little cakes and tarts, meringues. All on fancy pink and green pedestals and platters. It’s like Wonderland. I half expect the dormouse to poke his head out of the teapot.
Right in the middle of everything, stuck right into the table, is a tremendous sword. An antique, it looks like, with a golden pommel.
“Tch, Jamie,” Lady Ruth mutters. “He thinks it’s very funny to leave his sword around.Jamie! Come and move your sword!”
“I’ve got it,” I say, reaching for the sword and sliding it out of the table. It hasn’t left a mark—it must be magic. It’s got a nice heft. Well-balanced, too. “This is a hell of a blade.”
I look up. Lady Ruth is staring at me like she’s just seen a ghost. Jamie is in the doorway, looking just as shocked.
I turn the sword and offer him the grip. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have, um . . .”
He doesn’t take it.
“Sorry,” I say again.
BAZ
Snow has apparently committed some massive sword faux pas. He’s standing there, holding it out, and the Salisburys are looking at him like he just stuck his hand in the butter. Or worse, like he’s threatening them.
“That’s . . .” Lady Salisbury gasps. “That’s an Excalibur!”
Simon looks down at the sword, his eyes goggling. “Thisis Excalibur?”
“It’sanExcalibur,” she says. “Made by Merlin himself.”
“I don’t understand . . .” Simon says.
Neither do I. But if this means Snow is the once and future king, I can’t say I’ll be surprised at this point.
“It’s a family sword,” Jamie says, still looking gobsmacked. “Made for the House of Salisbury.”
“I’m not a Salisbury by blood.” Lady Ruth’s voice is trembling. “Once it’s planted, I can’t budge it.”
“I . . .” Simon looks like he wants to set the sword down, but that seems like another faux pas.
Lady Salisbury rushes towards him, past the sword, to throw her arms around him. “Oh, my child, my child!”
Does this mean . . .
Could Simon be . . .
SIMON
Lady Ruth is hugging me even more tightly than usual. I move the sword behind me.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“You’re a Salisbury,” Jamie says, still staring at me.
“I’m certain I’m not. It must be a fluke—I’m not even a magician.”
