the immense power in their bond would be used for anything other than good. But . . .” Another probing look into Rags’s eyes—he had to stop doing that—followed by an inclination of his head in Cabhan’s direction. “I know only that when the Great Paragon was fashioned as a gift, it was intended for human partnership. More than that I was not allowed to know.”
Rags found himself staring at Lord Faolan, whose mouth was pressed into a tight line. Showing discomfort in place of the triumph Rags had expected.
House Ever-Learning must have played a part in the war against the fae, though it had happened hundreds of years before Lord Faolan’s time. Maybe he was whip-clever enough to know that smiling in the face of your utterly defeated enemy was in poor taste.
Shining Talon continued, ignoring the expressions in the audience. “I do know that the fragments do not like to be alone. When awake, they seek completion.”
“Do you know where the other fragments are?” Lord Faolan asked.
Shining Talon shook his head. Rags almost detected a note of hesitation. “What knowledge I was given had to remain vague. No single master can know too much. It is my understanding that One would lead us to her master, which she has done. After that, the instructions become less clear. In some way, One’s master should be able to point us toward the Master of Two . . . and so on.”
“Fascinating.” Lord Faolan turned to Morien. “Like links in a chain. Not sorcery as we recognize it today, but that incredible fae technology whispered about in ruined texts, splinters of a past found only on the most ancient battlefields. . . .”
“Fascinating.” Morien’s voice didn’t shimmer with quite the same amount of wonder. Instead, his eyes burned into Cabhan.
A knot in Rags’s throat told him what Morien needed to do to maintain control over this weapon.
If none of the fragments like One chose Morien or Faolan for mastery—who had no reason to rely on such a wild card—there was still a way for the sorcerer and the Ever-Noble to remain masters of the operation. Who wouldn’t want that?
The solution to the problem was already buried in Rags’s heart.
Rags shouted, stupidly—he didn’t know what it was he hoped to effect, who he was warning, if it was even a warning, not a yelp of pointless protest—as Morien made his move, reaching Cabhan’s side with lightning speed. One opened her mouth, bared what looked like ten rows of teeth sliding into position for the occasion, bracing herself to leap for Morien, flay his skin off his body, suck the marrow from his bones—
Morien held up his hand. Rags fell to his knees. Lord Faolan shook his head as if weary of theatrics, and Shining Talon drew himself to his full height, eyes suddenly blazing.
STAND DOWN!
Later, Rags wouldn’t be able to say if he’d heard the words spoken out loud or if he’d felt them echoing in his veins. The room shook with the force of its warring tensions, mostly with the strength of Shining Talon’s voice, rattling Rags’s teeth in his jaw.
Rags tasted blood. He’d bitten his tongue.
His heart shuddered, needle-thin shards of mirrorglass lancing through muscle—
Do it, Rags thought. Do it anyway, you crazy fucking lizard, who gives a shit, don’t stand down—
Reared and ready to strike, One paused as her resolve wavered. Rags’s eyes watered. He couldn’t make a sound, blood bubbling past his lips instead of words. Maybe he hadn’t bitten his tongue and this was blood from deep in his chest, where Morien’s sorcery had begun to shred him into ribbons—
One lowered herself to all fours, casting Shining Talon a withering look brimming with impotent fury and betrayal.
Cabhan tried to twist his body into a fighting position despite everyone in the room, Cabhan included, knowing it was too late. Morien had Cabhan in his grip. One couldn’t protect her master because it would have harmed Rags, and Shining Talon refused to let that happen. Cabhan was about to receive the same dirty sorcery treatment that was ruining Rags’s life. About to be gifted with a shard of mirrorglass in his heart to ensure his obedience to Morien.
Rags’s vision swam at the edges. Morien’s fingers moved and mirrorglass dazzled. Shining Talon dropped to the floor, hands over his ears. The lizard shape of One’s body rippled at its edges, lost certainty, reminding Rags of how she’d been when they’d first met—a formless river. It wasn’t worse than being sharded,