Rory slapped the box down on the middle of the table.
Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “Is that—”
“We call it the Tempest Ring,” said Rory.
Sebastian stared at the ring box for a moment, then reached for it. His expression barely twitched as he touched the lead, just like Gwen had trivialized the same sting that still felt like intolerable needles on Rory’s own skin. Rory wasn’t sure he wanted to think about where either of them might have gotten their tolerance for pain.
Sebastian cracked the lid.
Rory took a breath through his nose as an echo of wind rushed in his blood. “You know I’m psychometric,” he said, softly enough no one would overhear. “History’s sorta my thing. I’ve seen the past of three relics now and I know the story I’ve heard is true: they were made by seven nobles during the Spanish Inquisition to hide their magic from a paranormal inquisitor who saw magic like Gwen does.”
He nodded at the box. “Last time I looked at the ring’s history, I saw the paranormal who put his wind magic into it. He mentioned the Inquisitor. Inquisitorde Leon.And I know there’s a whole buncha de Leons in the world and maybe it’s one big coincidence, but you weaken magic, and your cousin paints magic traps, and I’m thinking maybe you’re not the only ones from your family with magic that stops other magic. Because you sure do know an awful lot about the relics.”
Sebastian snapped the lid shut. The sense of the wind vanished. “So you think I’m some kind of witch-hunter’s descendent?”
“What was it you said back at Gwen’s pad?” Rory said pointedly. “Everyone’s got a legacy?”
Sebastian folded his arms on the table. “The Inquisition took innocent lives and so did the inquisitors. If that was my legacy, do you think I would want to talk about it?”
“Maybe not,” Rory acknowledged. “But you know, the paranormal nobles who made the relics killed people too.”
Sebastian seemed to still at that. “You saw that in history?”
Rory nodded once. “The fella who made my ring practiced using the wind on prisoners on a ship. The man who made Gwen’s amulet sent a tidal wave toward a castle. And I don’t wanna talk about the pomander,” he added with a shiver.
Sebastian glanced down at the ring again. “So you think a monster was sent to hunt the monsters?”
“You tell me,” said Rory. “If your family was supposed to keep the relics hidden, are you gonna try to take that ring from me, whether I’m willing or not? Gwen’s amulet too?”
“And cast her back into her aura-sight so she sees nothing but magic?” Sebastian said quietly. “Is that what you think I plan to do to a friend, when her pain was caused by the relics my family lost in the first place?”
Rory hesitated.
“Whatever you think my legacy is,” Sebastian said, still quiet, “I have blood magic in my veins. I wouldn’t trust myself with a relic. I don’t trust myself at all. I’m here to protect Gwen and Ellis, but if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be in Barcelona. I’d be as far away and as alone as I could.”
“I get it.” Rory held up a hand when Sebastian opened his mouth again. “No, I do. Because if there’s one thing I know about better than anyone else, it’s magic screwing with you and making you do things you didn’t choose to do.”
“Because you’re a subordinate paranormal too.” Sebastian’s brown eyes were serious. “You’ve been changed by the lost relics as well. What would happen to you if I took the ring?”
Does it matter?Rory was about to say, but something about Sebastian’s expression suggested that it did. He didn’t know about the link to Arthur, that Rory would be safe because he had another lifeline.
And he didn’t know that Rory also knew all about having to be alone because of magic.
“Youshouldtake that ring,” Rory blurted. “I’m such a bad King of the Wind.”
“Wait.” Sebastian stared at him. “I’ve been told about the tidal wave you stopped on Coney Island. Please tell me that was the only time you’ve actually used the fifteenth-century magic in that ring anywhere near all the helpless non-magical people in the world?”
“Um.” Rory snagged the box and gingerly pulled it back across the table, hissing under his breath at the sting of lead. “I’ll just put this back in my pocket, outta reach of the fella under blood magic, yeah?”
“You do that,” Sebastian muttered, rubbing his temples.
Chapter Seventeen
The veterans’ event was in a small, ground-floor ballroom in an attractive hotel. It was well attended and interesting, and Arthur wasn’t enjoying it at all. After doing a poor job at making even idle conversation with a dozen other former soldiers, he needed air.
He stepped out to the veranda. The soft rain had stopped for the moment, leaving gray skies and cool wet air. Arthur stared at the greenery, a weight in his chest.
He should have known he wouldn’t get to keep Rory forever.
