Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices 3)

Diego cleared his throat. “Jaime’s too sick to eat that,” he said. “He needs fresh fruit. Juice. Anything with calories.”

Anush hesitated. For a moment Diego felt a flicker of hope. But Anush only pushed the tray slowly through the gap in the bottom of the door.

“I think he’ll want to eat this,” he said.

He stood up and hurried away, closing the prison door behind him. Keeping Jaime cradled against him, Diego pulled the tray toward himself with one hand.

A jolt of surprise went through him. Lying beside the usual bowls of gruel was a stele, and a note. Diego seized them both up with a shaking hand. The note read: You were the only one who was kind to me at the Scholomance. I’m leaving Idris and the guards. I know there’s a resistance out there. I’m going to find it.

Take care of your brother.

* * *

“What’s that?” Kit called; he could see Ty coming down the dirt road toward the highway, a witchlight rune-stone in his hand. It cast him into shadow, but the small crouched creature on his shoulder was still visible.

“It’s a wood rat,” said Ty. The witchlight blinked off as he joined Kit by the side of the highway. He was all in black, with the glimmer of Livvy’s pendant at the collar of his shirt.

Kit, who was not a fan of rats, eyed the animal on Ty’s shoulder with some wariness. It didn’t look like the usual sort of rat: It had rounded ears and a furry face and tail. It appeared to be nibbling on a shelled nut.

“They’re harmless,” Ty said. “They like to collect things for their nests—bottlecaps and leaves and acorns.”

The wood rat finished its snack and looked at Ty expectantly.

“I don’t have any more,” he said, plucked the rat off his shoulder, and set it down gently. It scampered off into the bushes by the roadside. “So,” Ty said, dusting off his hands. “Should we go over everything we have for the spell?”

Kit’s stomach knotted. He was half-wondering where Dru was, half-anxious about what Shade was going to do. If the warlock planned to stop Ty, he was certainly waiting until the last minute.

“Sure,” Kit said, pulling the list out of his pocket. “Incense from the heart of a volcano.”

“Got it at the Shadow Market. Check.”

“Chalk powdered from the bones of a murder victim.”

“Same.”

“Blood, hair, and bone of the person to be brought over,” Kit said, a slight catch in his voice.

Ty’s pale face was like a half-moon in the darkness. “I have a lock of Livvy’s hair and one of her baby teeth.”

“And the blood?” said Kit, gritting his teeth. It seemed beyond grim to be talking about pieces of Livvy, as if she’d been a doll and not a living, breathing person.

Ty touched the pendant at his throat, still stained with rust. “Blood.”

Kit forced a noise of recognition through his tight throat. “And myrrh grown by faeries—”

A twig snapped. Both of them swung around, Ty’s hand going to his waist. Kit, realizing, put a hand on Ty’s arm a moment before Drusilla stepped out of the shadows.

She held up her hands. “Whoa. It’s just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Ty’s voice crackled with anger.

“I was looking out my window. I saw you walking down toward the highway. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Kit was impressed. Dru really was a good liar. Face open and honest, voice steady. His dad would have given her a gold star.

“Why were you talking about faeries and myrrh and all that other stuff?” she went on. “Are you doing a spell?”

Ty looked a little sick. Guilt hit Kit with the force of a whip. Ty wasn’t good at lying, and he didn’t do well with surprise changes to plans he’d made. “Go back to the house, Dru,” he said.

Dru glared at him. “I won’t. You can’t make me.”

Kit wondered if any of this was still playacting.

“If you send me back, I’ll tell everyone you’re doing weird spell stuff with evil chalk,” said Dru.

Ty flushed with annoyance. Kit pulled Ty toward him by his sleeve and whispered in his ear, “Better let her come with us. If we don’t, and she tells, we could get caught or get Shade in trouble.”

Ty started to shake his head. “But she can’t—”

“We’ll make her wait outside the cave,” Kit said. He’d realized they would have to do that anyway; the first words Shade said would undermine the careful half-truths Kit had told Dru.

Ty exhaled. “Fine.”

Dru clapped her hands together. “Woo-hoo!”

They crossed the highway together, and Dru took off her shoes when they reached the sand. It was a soft night, the air tickling their skin, the ocean breathing in low, soft exhalations, rushing the tide up the beach. Kit felt a sort of ache at the center of him at how beautiful it all was, mixed with bitterness at his father for never bringing him here. Another truth denied to him: His city was beautiful.

As were other things. Ty kicked his way along the edge of the sand, his hands in his pockets. The wind lifted his hair, and the strands clung to his cheekbones like streaks of dark paint. He was purposely ignoring Drusilla, who was playing tag with the tide, runn

ing up and down the beach with her hair askew, the cuffs of her jeans wet with salt water. She looked over at Kit and winked, a conspiratorial wink that said: We’re helping Ty together.

Kit hoped that was true. His stomach was in painful knots by the time they made it to the cave entrance. Ty stopped at the dark hole in the stone bluff, shaking his head at his sister.

“You can’t come with us,” he said.

Dru opened her mouth to protest, but Kit gave her a meaningful look. “It’s better if you wait outside,” he said, enunciating each word clearly so she’d know he meant it.

Dru flopped down in the sand, looking woebegone. “Okay. Fine.”

Ty ducked into the cave. Kit, after an apologetic look at Dru, was about to follow when Ty emerged again, carrying an angry gray ball of fluff.

Dru’s face broke into a smile. “Church!”

“He can keep you company,” Ty said, and put the cat into his sister’s lap. Dru looked at him with shining eyes, but Ty was already ducking back into the cave. Kit followed, though he couldn’t help but wonder if Ty had ever noticed how much Dru looked up to him. He couldn’t help but think that if he had a little sibling who admired him, he would have spent all his time showing off.

Ty was different, though.

The moment they entered the tunnel, Kit could hear scratchy music—something like the sound of a song that hadn’t downloaded properly. When they entered the main cave, they found Shade twirling slowly around the room to the sound of a mournful tune playing on a gramophone.

“Non, rien de rien,” Shade sang along. “Je ne regrette rien. Ni le bien qu’on m’a fait, ni le mal—”

Kit cleared his throat.

Shade didn’t seem the least embarrassed. He ceased his twirling, glared, and snapped his fingers. The music vanished.

“I don’t recall inviting you to come tonight,” the warlock said. “I might have been busy.”

“We sent a note,” said Kit. Shade beetled his white brows at him and glanced down at the scratched wooden table. An empty vial sat on it, the kind they’d used to distribute the Lake Lyn water. Kit was pleased to see Shade had drunk the cure, although a little worried he might be hallucinating.