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“Quite,” he gasps.
“What about the realms?” Kartik calls out. “Do you forget that we have long been its guardians? Will you not come with us into the Winterlands?”
The men mumble to one another. No one comes forward for the ardous journey.
“Very well,” Lord Denby says. “I shall assemble some foot soldiers for the task.”
“Foot soldiers?” I ask.
Kartik folds his arms. “Men like Fowlson and me. Men who won’t be missed.”
“Yes, take Mr. Fowlson with you,” Lord Denby says as if suggesting a servant for hire. “He has a way with a knife. You’re a good chap, aren’t you, Folwson?”
Mr. Fowlson accepts the statement like a blow he will not return. His jaw clenches.
“As it is my choice, I shall have Mr. Fowlson. We understand one another. And he does have a way with a knife,” I say. “Untie my brother, if you please.”
Mr. Fowlson loosens Tom’s bonds. He shoulders Tom’s limp body, and we move toward the door.
“The blindfold!” a man bellows.
I throw it on the floor. “I don’t need it. If you wish to wear it, be my guest.”
“Gemma! What the devil is going on? What did you do?” Tom demands. He’s beginning to unravel, and action must be taken.
“Hold him still, will you, please?” I say to Kartik and Fowlson, who take hold of Tom’s arms.
o;Initiation,” Kartik shouts, coming to my side. “Call it off.”
“Brother Kartik. I’d been told you were no longer living,” a voice calls. “Mr. Fowlson, you will answer for this.”
Fowlson’s face drains of color. “Yes, m’lord.”
“Let my brother go!” I shout.
“Certainly, dear lady. Just as soon as you give us the magic.”
I glance at Tom, who is helpless under the executioner’s knife.
“I can’t do that,” I say.
Tom screams as the knife presses a bit closer. “Stop,” he says in a strangled voice.
“Please, I need your help!” I cry. “Something terrible is happening in the Winterlands. We’re all in danger. I believe those creatures mean to come into our world.”
The room breaks into polite laughter. Beside me, Fowlson laughs hardest.
“I have seen Amar in the realms!” I shout. “He was one of you once. He warned me that it was coming. ‘Beware the birth of May,’ he said.”
The laughter dies away. “What did he mean by it?”
“I don’t know,” I say, keeping an eye on my brother. Tom is starting to come around. I see it in his eyes. “I thought it meant the first of May, but that day has come and gone. It could be another day—”
Lord Denby steps out of the shadows. “I don’t know what manner of trickery this is, Miss Doyle, but it will not stand.” His finger lowers, and the cloaked figure presses the knife harder to my brother’s throat. “He will die.”
“And what if you kill him?” I say. “What bargaining power will you have then?”
“Your brother will die!” His voice thunders in the room.
