‘That’s impossible,’ I murmur.
‘Why?’ Fox asks calmly.
‘Because … because …’ I search desperately for an answer, but the liquor clouding my head is making it difficult to think clearly. ‘Because it justis, all right?’
‘I agree with Blaze,’ my brother announces, loyal to the bone.
‘Harglade,’ Sheen says, his voice unexpectedly soft, ‘think about what happened in the Ridge tunnels.’
Both of us turn to stare at him. Then I watch as understanding sparks in Flint’s right eye. His mouth stretches first into a taut line then curls into a grimace.
‘Oh,’ he mumbles.
‘What is it?’ Spinner asks, her gaze flicking quizzically between him and Sheen.
‘I …’ Flint clears his throat. ‘I couldn’t explain it before.’
‘Explainwhat?’ I splutter.
‘The explosion.’
Fox closes his eyes.
‘I thoughtIwas the one who killed that snake,’ Flint continues. ‘It was the only logical conclusion. Only, deep down …’ His face flushes.
‘What?’ I demand.
‘I knew … I knew it couldn’t have been me.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I say through gritted teeth.
‘I didn’t conjure those flames, Blaze.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I –’ He glances at Sheen, who nods once. Flint then swallows hard, inhales, exhales, and says, ‘Because Ican’t.’
For a long moment we just look at each other.
My stomach churns violently. ‘What d’you mean,you can’t?’
‘Ever since the third trial, I … I haven’t …’ He looks as if he might vomit.
And then it hits me. All his excuses and deflections. His reluctance to ignite so much as a candle. Even Aunt Yvainne’s funeral when he couldn’t face lighting the pyre.
I think back to the Ridge and how desperate I was for those flames to erupt, almost as if I’d willed them into existence.
I stand rooted to the spot as realization burns through me. In one last-ditch attempt to smother it with doubt, I drag my gaze from my brother and glare at everyone in turn.
‘Is this some kind of joke? Because it’s not funny.’
‘No one’s laughing,’ Sheen points out quietly.
Spinner twists her fingers together nervously.
‘Well, I don’t believe it,’ I snap. But if that were true, then why is my heart pounding so fiercely I fear it may break a rib?
I glance down at the talisman clutched in my fist. Even in the flickering firelight I can see that the chain is ever so slightly thicker, the clasp a different shape to my own. Fox was telling the truth. This is the Eye of the Past.
