Chapter 5

He did now. He didn’t like it: too many implications about whatever’d been happening as far as power-drain or overexertion, in that wizard’s shop.

He suggested, trying hard, “I can make coffee. Or pie. Not with blackbirds. Or sandwiches. Or—”

“You,” Nicholas said, “can sit down and stop hovering. And tell me why the Arch-Mage lied to two men whose biceps outweigh my head, on my behalf.”

Tom—who three months ago had been Tommy to his little sister and Arch-Mage Thomas Richard Caelus East, High Wizard and Most Resplendent Sorcerer and nominal head of the North American magical population to a lot of other people—rubbed a thumb over his signet ring, said, “Because you didn’t kill anyone,” and sat down because maybe Nicholas would relax too if he did. Maybe they both would.

He picked up a piece of bread. His hands needed to fidget.