“My pen!” I gasped, eyes wide as Graham crossed to me and gaped at Gran’s pen that was now pulsing with a soft golden light.
I stared at the pen as the glow slowly faded. And there, on the green barrel, where there had been nothing before, a small golden mark had appeared. A symbol that looked almost like a key, etched into the surface as if it had always been there.
“What does that mean?” Graham asked.
“You spoke your truth,”Quilliam said, clambering across the table to peer at the pen.“To Graham. You stopped hiding and let him in.”
I repeated the words to Graham, my voice shaking.
Graham looked at me with wonder in his eyes. “Look at you! You’re already kicking arse at this whole Order thing. I’m telling you, Quilliam. You gotta watch out for Agnes. She’s a belter.”
“I didn’t know that would happen. I wasn’t trying to?—”
“It doesn’t matter if you were trying. It matters that you did it.” He pulled me into his arms again. “One down. Two to go.”
Such absolute confidence.
Having never had a father, and only known my father’s brother from a distance, I hadn’t known how amazing it felt to have someone like Graham have such unrepentant faith in me.Or had I? He said he’d loved me since he was sixteen…
I held on to him, a fine tremble working through me.
Was it possible? Could I be the one to actually break this curse and finally find happiness with Graham? One challenge down, and two more to face. And then maybe, just maybe, we could have the life we’d been denied.
“We should eat,” Graham said, dropping into a chair. “We can’t go fighting ancient curses on an empty stomach.”
“No, I imagine you do need your protein to stay strong.” I rolled my eyes, but Graham had managed to lift my spirits like he always did.
“I’m still a growing boy.” Graham patted his washboard abs. “Now, tell me how I can help break this curse.”
Quilliam made a satisfied sound and stole a bite of my eggs. I raised my eyebrowsat him.
“Sir.”
“What? I need protein too, don’t I?”The wee beastie took another bite and looked over at Graham.“I like him. He can stay.”
“He says you can stay,” I told Graham.
“High praise from a three-hundred-year-old dragon.”
“Book wyrm,”Quilliam corrected.
“He says he’s a book wyrm, not a dragon.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Dragons hoard gold. I hoard knowledge,”Quilliam said with a beleaguered sigh, as though he was annoyed with having to continue repeating himself.
I explained, and Graham laughed.
“Fair enough. Knowledge is more valuable anyway.” He offered his hand to Quilliam, who regarded it suspiciously for a moment before bumping his tiny head against Graham’s fingers.
Hope unfurled inside me.
Maybe this could work. Maybe we could actually do this.
Together.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
