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“So, what are you going to do about this?” I’m standing in my parents’ kitchen, clinging to a mug of freshly brewed coffee like my life depends on it.
My mum sighs. “According to the Old Ways, it’s you Bren’s betrayed. His life is in your hands, and the traditional thing would be for you to declare it forfeit. But he’s still your brother. I hope we can make a compromise work.”
“What compromise?” I have no wish to kill Brendan, but I do want to make him pay. And now I know what he’s capable of, the idea he might be plotting to expand the Dome seems far more likely—and I want to ensure that’s impossible. Not to mention prevent him from taking revenge on Gabriel. Even if Gabriel is a manipulative bastard.
Liam strides in. He’s glowing with power. “We’re draining his magic. A third to each sibling. A fitting punishment and a way to stop him doing anything stupid in future, but no death and no real pain.”
I laugh bitterly. “So, we’re back to square one. We could have let Gabriel drain his magic six years ago and avoided all this.”
“I’m not sure that’s what you’d have wanted,” Chrissie says, slinking into the room. From the sparkle in her eyes and the buzz in her aura, it’s clear she’s taken her share. I dread to think what her enhanced empath powers are showing her regarding me and Gabriel.
Neither Chrissie nor Liam have ever been particularly magically gifted, at least by my family’s standards—their talents have traditionally lain elsewhere. But presumably, that’s going to change.
“Thornber’s formally asked for an alliance, you know,” Dad says. “Unite the families. Combine our powers. Stop the fighting and make Mannith better than ever.”
“What did you say?”
I imagine the answer is going to involve obscenities, but Dad merely shrugs. “I’m thinking it over. I’ve heard worse ideas. We could use the extra magical firepower.”
I find Bren upstairs in his old bed, bound by the rest of the family’s collective magic. It’s far too reminiscent of that night six years ago. Sometimes, it’s like the whole town is caught in a time loop. I trudge slowly over to him, gazing into the distance.
“Hey, Sades. Come to take the last third? Ironic, isn’t it? If you’d given me your power a few hours ago, I’d have been the strongest practitioner in town. Now I’m going to be left with nothing.” His voice is flat and his posture slumped.
I sit down on the edge of the bed. There are dark circles under his eyes and scars on his arm. The symptoms of burning through too much magic and of Gabriel’s attacks, respectively.
“You did try to kill me, Bren. I don’t think you can push too hard for the sympathy vote.”
He shrugs—a tiny movement between his injuries and his bindings. “I had a winning hand. I knew—absolutely knew, with the surety of a clairvoyant—that he’d save you. I wouldn’t have risked it if I’d been anything less than certain.”
I touch his arm. “You happened to be right. But there’s no way you could have been sure enough to risk it. He’s utterly unpredictable. Always scheming.”
“Not when it comes to you. Besides, on the million-to-one chance he hadn’t taken the bait, I’d have healed you myself.”
“If he hadn’t ‘taken the bait’ as you so charmingly put it, he’d have killed you in an instant. You’d have been in no position to save me.”
“I’m not pleading for mercy. I just want you to know I was sure.”
I stand and pace the room. I can’t bear to look at him. “I don’t need any more magic. And Chrissie and Liam have taken enough to stop you attempting anything insane. Taking the rest would be a needless cruelty.”
I expect Brendan to be grateful. Instead, he frowns. “I was the only one who could stand against Thornber. Now that power’s split three ways and the family’s basically ready to agree to an alliance, he can do whatever he wants. And you’re naïve if you believe he won’t do something awful.”
I don’t answer. I don’t want to think about that now.
“Take my power,” he demands. “Add it to yours. Then, when and if the time comes, you can stop him.”
“No. I’ve got enough magical power to take him if I really tried. Though… I don’t think I could hurt him again.”
“Are you going to form your own alliance then? Give yourself to him and have little Thornber babies?” His tone is half scorn, half longing. Perhaps he’s thinking about Leah and their abandoned family plans.
“I don’t think I could do that either. Keep the rest of your magic, Bren. Get over all this.”
I lean over him, place a hand on his sternum, and take the tiniest hint of magic as a token gesture. He puts up no resistance, and it flows into my blood, bringing with it a warmth and a sense of nostalgia and home and safety. Ironically.
After a few seconds, I tap lightly to close the connection, then step away. “For the last time, what really happened with the Dome? There’s no point lying now—I’m leaving town, your magic’s weak, and you’ve got nothing to lose. Besides, after what you did to me, if I don’t get a convincing answer, I’ll feel entirely justified in resorting to mind reading again.”
He closes his eyes. “You had it right. I tried and failed that night six years ago. I extended the boundaries a little back in May—the after-effects were the other reason I was so weak the night of Niall’s murder. I was planning to attempt a larger expansion in the autumn—though I genuinely was far from confident that my powers were up to the task. The rest of the family didn’t know about any of the recent stuff, in case you’re wondering.
“And yes, everything I’d already managed required a pretty hefty sacrifice. The things I wanted to do would have required a larger one. I know it’s not exactly conventional morality, but I still believe the trade-offs would have been worth it if I had managed to pull it off. But that’s all academic now I’m in this state.”
