Jessica Andersen - Dawnkeepers

“Worse,” Strike said. “The place where it’d been stank of Iago’s magic. I’ll bet you anything the bastard was watching the whole time, and swept in and grabbed it when the plan went south.”

Sven just kept shaking his head, looking shell-shocked, as if he couldn’t believe he’d screwed up so badly.

Leah crossed the room to touch Strike’s arm. “What about Rabbit?”

The king’s expression went hollow. “There wasn’t any sign of him. I couldn’t even lock on for a

’port.”

Silence followed that pronouncement. It wasn’t dire news, necessarily, because Strike had already discovered that ’port magic often failed to lock onto a person if they were underground or within thick walls. That was why he generally kept the ’ports to open air. However, his inability to lock onto Rabbit could stem from a more sinister reason—like he was unconscious, or worse.

“Take me there,” Leah said. “I’m good at finding people.”

They shared a look, and Strike nodded. “Yeah. You are.” He closed his eyes to initiate the ’port, which he needed to do these days only when he was trying to summon magic without enough of a power boost.

“Wait!” Alexis said, interrupting.

Strike’s eyes popped open. “What?”

“Take this. Eat.” She grabbed three of the protein bars Carlos had brought for Sven, who preferred them over chocolate or some of the other quick-energy foods the Nightkeepers gravitated toward. “We can’t afford to have you ’porting low on calories.”

He took the bars and nodded, and Leah’s eyes gleamed a quiet thanks as the magic powered back up and they vanished, air rushing in with a pop to fill the space they’d vacated.

When they were gone, Alexis realized what she’d just done, and felt a flush climb her cheeks. “Did I just interrupt teleport magic to nag the king to eat?” she asked the room at large. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m an idiot.” Strike was a grown-up, and about ten times the mage she’d ever be.

“You’re not an idiot,” Jox said. “You’re a royal adviser, and you just advised.” He withdrew a palm-

size eccentric from his pocket and held it out to her. “Strike asked me to pull it out of storage for you.

I think he’d want you to have it now.”

Alexis just stared at the small effigy for a beat, while tears lumped in her throat and scratched at the backs of her eyes. The eccentric was carved in the shape of an ear of maize, the lifeblood of their ancestors.

It was a twin to the one her mother had carried.

“If you’d rather wait until they’re back—” Jox began.

“No,” she said quickly, then again, “No. This is perfect.” And it was, she realized. Although Strike might have given her the position because he knew how much she wanted it, how hard she’d work, Jox wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t think she was worthy of being an adviser. The royal winikin was steeped in the old traditions, bound by them. If he was offering the eccentric, then the offer was real.

The need was real.

She reached out and took the smoothly carved piece, which was warm from Jox’s body heat.

Dipping her head, she said, “Thank you.”

A patter of applause from behind her was a surprise. She spun around and saw that Nate was clapping, and not looking the slightest bit sarcastic. The applause swelled as the others joined in. Jade and the winikin looked pleased; Lucius was clapping with the others, even though he shrugged when their eyes met, as if to say, No clue what just happened, but congrats; Patience was sitting up, her eyes clear and focused as she rested within the curve of her husband’s arm, the two of them forming a unit despite their continued problems; and Izzy was front and center, her eyes shining, with maybe even the hint of a tear on her cheek. And in that moment it didn’t matter how hard the winikin had pushed, or why. It mattered only that things had happened the way they were meant to happen . . . exactly as they had happened before.

And if that interpretation of the writs rang false in Alexis’s head, she didn’t stop to analyze, not then. She smiled at her teammates. “Thanks, guys. Just . . . thanks.”

“Don’t thank us too quickly,” Jox said. “As both Godkeeper and royal adviser, you rank, which means you’re in charge while Strike and Leah are off property. So what do you want us to do?” The look in his eye said it wasn’t a casual question.

A glance around the room showed why. The Nightkeepers were warriors without a battle to fight, the winikin a support staff without real direction. They were worried for their king and queen, scared for Rabbit, and disturbed that they were so close to the vernal equinox and the deadline for the first demon prophecy, yet didn’t have a clear plan or arsenal.

Join the club, Alexis thought, but knew that wasn’t good enough. As part of the royal council, it was up to her to do something, say something. Granted, if she did nothing, they would go on as they had been, and nothing would truly be lost.

Except, perhaps, some hope. And she owed them that.

Thinking fast, she looked over at Lucius. “You can translate carvings, right?”

He looked startled at first; then his eyes took on a gleam of interest. He nodded. “Definitely.”

Glancing outside to where the dusk was still a few hours off, he said, “It’ll have to wait a little if you’re talking starscript, though.”

“No, regular glyphs. I want you to sit down with the Ixchel statuette—Jade can get it for you out of archive lockup. See what you can make of the plain carved text. The auction house had translated the writing on the piece I bought and said it was a love poem, nothing spectacular. But maybe it’ll take on a new meaning once it’s read in its entirety, with the other piece. Maybe it’ll give us a clue how to fight Camazotz or find the Volatile.”

Or not, but it was something to try, anyway, something she’d only just now thought of, and wondered why they hadn’t tried it before. But that wasn’t fair, either. They were playing catchup to Iago, trying to map out the next few years without nearly enough information. It was a start, though. In the absence of any other semibrilliant ideas, Alexis didn’t bother trying to order any of the others around, because she figured they were all grown-ups, and she wasn’t much in the way of a leader. But as they dispersed, Patience, Sven, and Brandt to sleep off their exertions, the others to various tasks, she got a nod here, a “way to go” there.

Nate was the last to leave, and as he passed her he stepped in close. “Congratulations.”

He touched his lips to hers before she’d guessed his intent, before she’d had a chance to brace herself. But there was no need to brace, no need for defense. Where before their kisses had been all about heat and need, this was about tenderness, about affirmation.

Weakened by surprise, she shuddered against him, let herself lean for a second. Then he eased away and looked down at her, his amber eyes intent on hers. For the first time she felt like his entire focus, as if he was seeing not just the outer shell of her, but actually seeing her .

Then he took a big step back, away from her, and tipped his head in a nod that was almost a bow.

“I’m happy for you. I know this is what you wanted.”

And he turned and walked away.

She stood there, torn between letting him go and calling him back. The kiss had been entirely different, almost like one she would’ve expected on a first date, an exploration rather than a possession. But what did that mean? Did it mean anything? She didn’t have a clue, and because she didn’t she let him go, watching where he’d been long after he’d pushed through the sliders, headed for the firing range.