We’ll talk Friday at the cabin.
I threw my phone onto my bed, letting it stay buried among the sheets and blankets. As I walked out of my room, the buzzing of another incoming call reminded me that Alaric wasn’t done trying—but I didn’t care to answer. Not now.
I forced myself to eat breakfast; the pancakes tasted like ash in my mouth. Tiffany kept checking my forehead, concerned that I was really coming down with something.
“Maybe we should go to the doctor today?” She offered, glancing between me and Dan. “Just in case. I’d hate for you to be sick on Thanksgiving.”
“I’m sure it’s just exhaustion finally hittingme after everything.” I smiled weakly. “Just let me have a rest today, and I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”
Tiffany didn’t look convinced but nodded. Uncle Dan wiped his face with his napkin, sipping the last few drops of his coffee when he cleared his throat, standing.
“Mari, before I head to the office, I want to show you something.”
He gestured for me to follow him. I glanced at Tiffany as she began to clear the table.
“Go on, I’ve got this.” She reassured me. “And don’t keep her from resting too long, Dan. I want her to be as good as new for our Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
“Of course.” He leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Just want to show her a book I think might help her on her government final she was telling me about on our walk last night.”
I followed Dan into his office, watching silently as he closed the door and then triggered his secret room to open. Once inside, he pulled a tome from one of his bookshelves that lined the room. He flipped a few pages until he found the section he wanted.
“I know you’re worried about Sara-Kate,” he began. “I am too. Now, without a known blood relative who is already awakened as a Bloodwright, there is not much we can do.”
“But she’s distantly related to Nico,” I responded, the tightness in my chest threatening to crush me. “That’s what those papers said.”
Dan nodded, his eyes softening in sympathy. “And I believe you, Mari. But without those papers, without proof, I can't go to Nico, let alone the others on the Council and ask for us to intervene on Sara-Kate’s behalf. And with such a distant relation, I’m not sure Nico would be able to bond with Sara-Kate as her mentor. She needs someone closer, like a sibling or parent.”
I nodded, feeling deflated as I thought about what Sara-Kate had already shared about her life. She only had her mom and grandmother; her dad left her mom when she was still pregnant with her. Maybe there was a chance her dad was a Bloodwright, but how could we even begin to attempt to find him in time?
“But,” Dan pointed to the book open in front of him on the table. “We may be able to do something to help protect her. At least until you can get more confirmation from Alaric about what he knows this weekend.”
Hope stirred in my chest, a faint ember that could easily be snuffed out. “What can we do?”
“A true stabilizing ward is beyond your skill for now, but we might improvise a temporary anchor for Sara-Kate’s magic if she is truly on the cusp of emerging,” he explained, nodding to the pendant around my neck. “That pendant you wear could be an excellent conduit. Though we are not related to Sara-Kate, we may be able toimbue a temporary protective ward. It won’t stop her from emerging, but it can at least give us and her some time.”
I ripped the pendant from my neck, thrusting it onto the table. “What do we need?”
He smiled softly. “I need you to power share with me, and for this to work, you’re going to need to dip into the bond you share with Alaric. Whatever he may know or not, he is a powerful Bloodwright. His power can only help us.”
“But wouldn’t he feel it?” I pressed, anxiety clawing through me.
“Yes, but maybe that could be a good thing.” Uncle Dan pondered. “The bond isn’t only about power—it’s about trust. If Alaric has nothing to hide, then he should welcome the fact that you’re using what you have to protect someone else. And if he does have something to hide . . .” His voice hardened, just slightly. “Then the way he reacts—panic, irritation, guilt—may tell you more than words ever could.”
I pressed my lips together, chewing on the thought. The idea of Alaric knowing, of him sensing what I was doing without me explaining, made my stomach twist. But maybe Dan was right. Maybe it would be a test—one Alaric wouldn’t even realize he was taking.
I finally nodded, leaning over the table and laying my hand in Uncle Dan’s. It took me a moment to breathe, to relax enough to let the shimmering warmth of my power bleed through the surface of my skin, connecting with Dan. With Alaric, power sharing was as easy as breathing, but it took concentration to open up to someone else.
Dan used his free hand to place the pendant between us. His fingers moved in a rhythmic pattern, a smoldering ash making different designs in the air, a sort of sigil, before it flowed directly into the pendant itself, making it glow faintly. I felt Dan pull more of my power, and I likewise dove deeper into my bond with Alaric. The light of my power and the hot heat of Alaric’s fire swirled together, manifesting at my chest before bleeding through my fingers. The pendant glowed brighter still, pulsing as if it were alive. Dan let my hand go, and I sat down, suddenly fatigued as if I had run a mile.
When I reached for the bond, it flared in sudden confusion, then dipped into something that felt like remorse. My chest tightened. He knew. He felt me tugging on his power, pulling it through the tether we shared. But he didn’t seem angry or panicked. Almost sad.
Uncle Dan handed me the pendant carefully. “See if you can get this to Sara-Kate today.”
I nodded as I tucked the pendant into my pocket, the warmth still radiating from the power that had just been imbued inside of it. I followed Dan out of his office, returning to my bedroom where I was planning to text Sara-Kate to meet up.
As I reached for my phone among the blankets in my bed, I was expecting the inevitable text message; Alaric’s name lighting up with more questions and demands. But there was nothing. The bond thrummed faintly with questions left unspoken, with emotions carefully held back as if he was trying to shield me from them.
I wasn’t sure whether or not this was a good sign. He wasn’t outright angry, but he wasn’t being truthful with me either. The silence was almost worse than anger. At least anger, I could understand. This . . . this felt like the calm before a storm I couldn’t see yet. I just hoped I’d be strong enough to weather it.
