moment. Then I said, "Lord Raith."
"Yes."
"He killed my mother."
"He did," Ebenezar confirmed.
"God. You're… you're sure?"
"He's a snake," Ebenezar said. "But I'm as sure as I can be."
The pounding spread up my arm, and the room pulsed brighter and dimmer in time with it. "My mother. He was standing three feet from me. He killed my mother." A child's pain—the emptiness in my life the shape of my unknown mother, my unfortunate father—swelled and screamed in rage. The source of that pain, or part of it, had finally been revealed to me. And in that moment, had I known where to strike, I would have eagerly embraced murder. Nothing mattered but exacting retribution. Nothing mattered but taking righteous vengeance for the death of a child's mother. My mother. I started shaking, and I knew that my sanity was buckling under the pressure.
"Hoss," Ebenezar said. "Easy, boy."
"Kill him," I whispered. "I'll kill him."
"No," Ebenezar said. "You've got to breathe, boy. Think."
I started gathering power. "Kill him. Kill him. Everything. All of it. Nothing left."
"Harry," Ebenezar snapped. "Harry, let go. You can't handle that kind of power. You'll kill yourself if you try."
I didn't care about that, either. The power felt too good—too strong. I wanted it. I wanted Raith to pay. I wanted him to suffer, screaming, and then die for what he had done to me. And I was strong enough to make it happen. I had the power and the resolve to bring such a tide of magic against him that he would be utterly destroyed. I would lay him low and make him howl for mercy before I tore him apart. He deserved nothing less.
And then fire blossomed in my hand again, so sudden and sharp that my back convulsed into an agonized arch, and I fell to the floor. I couldn't scream. The pain washed my fury away like dandelions before a flash flood. I looked around wildly and saw the old man's broad, calloused hand clamped down over my burned, lightly bandaged flesh with bruising strength. When he saw my eyes he released my hand, his expression sickened.
I curled up for a minute while my pounding heart telegraphed consecutive tidal waves of agony through me. It was several minutes before I could master the pain and sit slowly up again.
"I'm sorry," Ebenezar whispered. "Harry, I can't let you indulge your rage. You'll kill yourself."
"I'll take him with me," I got out between gritted teeth.
Ebenezar let out a bitter laugh. "No, you won't, Hoss."
"How do you know?"
"I've tried," he said. "Three times. And I didn't even get close. And you think your mother went without spending her death curse on her murderer? The creature who had enslaved her? Might as well ask if a fish remembered to swim."
I blinked at him. "What do you mean?"
"He's protected," he said quietly. "Magic just slides off him."
"Even a death curse?"
"Useless," he said bitterly. "Raith is protected by something big. Maybe a big damned demon. Maybe even some old god. He can't be touched with magic."
"Is that even possible?" I asked.
"Aye," the old man said. "I don't know how. But it is. Does a lot to explain how he got to become the White King."
"I don't believe it," I said quietly. "She'd been close to him. She must have known he was protected. She was strong enough to make the White Council afraid of her. She wouldn't have spent her curse for nothing."
"She threw it. She wasted it."
"So now my mother is incompetent as well as evil," I said.
"I never said that—"
"What do you know about her?" I said. I had my right hand clamped around my left wrist, hoping to distract myself from the pain. "How would you know? Did she tell you? Were you there with her?"
He looked down at the floor, his face pale. "No."
"Then how the hell do you know?" I demanded.
His words came out in a harsh croak. "Because I knew her, Hoss. I knew her almost better than she knew herself."
The fire crackled.
"How?" I whispered.
He drew his hand back from the puppy. "She was my apprentice. I was her teacher. Her mentor. She was my responsibility."
"You taught her?"
"I failed her." He chewed on his lip. "Harry… when Maggie was coming into her power, I made her life a living hell. She was barely more than a child, but I rode herd on her night and day. I pushed her to learn. To excel. But I was too close. Too involved. And she resented it. She ran