Page 15 of Echoes of War

“I’ll go get her,” Alexiares said, his thick brows gathered in concern.

Amaia nodded in acknowledgment. “Should we wait or …”

Her pupils dilated, eyes following Alexiares, trailing him as he crossed through the room and back out the door. Sloan nodded, sending some of her people out to guard the door. It was my turn to roll my eyes at her continued waste of resources. What did she thinkwas going to happen,— Alexiares would bite off an ear? Her people would revolt?

Abel stood tucked into the corner, eyes down.Ah,so that’s what this was about. She had ordered guards to keep any other undiscovered spies away from the door. I smirked, letting her know I was onto her fear and planned to fuck with her over it.

We had no other spies here, but what was the harm in her thinking that we did? And if other territories did, then I guess her paranoia was a good thing.

“I’ve got better things to do besides wait around for my cousin,” Sloan snapped. “Let’s hear it.”

“Better things as in … Tell people what they need to do and how fast to do it? Delegate all your responsibilities?” I bit out, unable to catch myself this time around.

“We can fill her in when she gets here, Tomoe.” Amaia tried to reassure me, her tone even. “She’s right. We don’t have time for this. If you have a new development, please share. We need some good news right now.”

I folded my arms over my chest, bunching up the stiff, itchy sweater Sloan had provided. I’m pretty sure she’d given me the shitty batch of clothes on purpose. Maybe it was my bubbly personality that had inspired her distaste.

Of course Amaia thinks Sloan’s right.

I walked toward the bookcase, my fingers traced the leather spines of a few books before landing on the ones I needed for reference. Lining them next to my notebook, I surveyed the room, ready to offer what I know.

“We have a few options,” I said.

To be expected, Sloan cut me off before I could finish my train of thought. “Options as in?”

Impatience, in this case, did appear to be genetic. It was endearing on Seth—on Sloan, not so much. “I’m getting there if you would let me speak.”

“Sloan,” Amaia said in warning.

Sloan rolled her neck like she was fighting mental fucking demons. Her hair cascaded down her back against her white shirt as she motioned me to continue. A couple of the Tinkerers skimmed the pages of my shit. I smacked the closest one’s fingers away, my other hand instinctively diverted toward Wrath. Sloan had begrudgingly re-armed us. After all, we were pulling more than our weight here.

I eyed Sloan with a pinch of repulsion. It was hard looking at her. Seth and Sloan’s features were so similar. Reina had always said her and Hunter stuck out from their family like a sore thumb. After staring at her and Seth’s faces for so long, I’d grown to see their similarities more than their differences. So seeing Sloan share Seth’s fiery hair and fierce eyes, the same small but full lips, was unsettling. It made me want to vomit.

“Starting with weather,” I continued, showing my notes in the beautiful vintage journal I’d found in Duluth’s Public Library and claimed. It wasn’t the most breathtaking library I’d ventured into, but it wassomething. “The snow, it helps with balance. We’ll need that to keep people from burning out when they powershare. We won’t have time to train them for mastery and without balance this could be … catastrophic.” I bit my lip, peering up at their faces.

When no one pestered me with questions, I continued, “They’re about to develop magic that’s familiar yet unrecognizable to their mind. They won’t know how to control it. Think of it like a string,” I said, mimicking a thin strand in the air. “When we activate our magic, we tug at what feels like a string that starts in our mind and connects with the heart. That’s the string we constantly stroke gently to keep ourselves under control. When we do this, that string will still exist, but now a new one will too. And that thread will be stronger, thicker. That string will become a rope. Without channeling the snow, without providing that assistance of balance, we’ll have weapons that we cannot control, becausetheycannot control. Everyone will burn out their magic before realizing they’re about to sever the string.”

“Makes sense,” Sloan said, nodding. “Okay, what next?”

The hazy glow of the sun tucked behind the heavy gray clouds in the sky illuminated the room through the tattered wooden window. If any of the gods out there were even halfway on our side, the snow would hold up through the weekend.

“The day of the week also matters; ideally, we’ll want to wait until Saturday.”

“Moe, it’s Thursday, we need to test this outnow.” Amaia said impatiently, shifting side to side.

“Spell timing is important,” I pushed. “Saturday gets us self-discipline.Saturdaygets us protection. Not to mention the aspect of transformation. All three of which we’ll need; we wait until Saturday.”

“Fine,” Sloan ground out. “And the rest? What’s the actual spell?”

All the oxygen sucked out of the room as everyone focused on me. I hoped I was right on this. “I’d like to start by saying none of you will exactly love this. A protection spell in ancient times was typically complemented with food or a beverage, followed by a cleanse.”

“Tomoe, I’m getting tired of having to bait this out of you.” Sloan took a step closer to me; if it was a fight she wanted, I would happily oblige. I pushed away the desire to close my eyes, not wanting her to assume my inability to face her for long was a result of intimidation.

“The blood,” Amaia said, her eyes trailed over my body. “You said the spell you performed had blood.”

I nodded, realization crossed Sloan’s face. Her lips stretched to a tight line. “Really? Blood? In the middle of an apocalypse caused by biological warfare? Fantastic.”

“I said you wouldn’t like it, but it’s necessary. I’m sure Amaia would love that.”

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