“You know damned well that wasn’t what she meant—”
“I don’t care what she meant,” Ingaret snapped. “I care what she said. And what she said—”
“I accept.”
My voice hadn’t been loud, but the acoustics in here were excellent. The words echoed off the walls and seemed to fill the whole space, loud as clashing cymbals; or maybe that was my ears ringing. Because I wasn’t up to this. Not after shifting here, shifting two guards and Marlowe, and then slowing Ingaret’s spell.
The Pythian power was inexhaustible, but it had to be processed through weak human flesh, and when my stamina gave out, so did my power.
Unlike my mother, I didn’t own it, I just borrowed it, and I wasn’t going to be borrowing much more today. But I couldn’t afford to show that. Or to so much as glance at Mircea, whom I’d had problems with in the past and likely would in the future, but who had had a genuine teachable moment earlier. As, weirdly enough, had Rosier.
Fake it till you make it, I reminded myself, and grabbed hold of the table.
It was even bigger than I’d realized. The slab must have been six inches thick and long enough to hold a couple hundred people easily. The huge, shiny surface looked back at me, as if it were challenging me, too.
“What?” Ingaret looked more surprised than anything.
“Yes, I know,” I said, as I got an assist from someone else who wasn’t here, namely Augustine. Because the metallic bodice of my dress began to glow as my power rose. “That wasn’t the plan, was it? You expected me to decline, forcing Jonas to fight you for his daughter’s life—”
“Cassie,” the man himself said, from somewhere in the darkness. I couldn’t see him too well at the moment, because my dress was now shining with power. I could see it in the highly polished surface of the table, reflecting light shadows on my face and body, making me look like an angel—
Or like a Christmas tree topper, some cynical voice in my head said, because it was a little over the top.
But around here, that just made for good theater.
“Rhea is talented,” I said, raising my voice to be sure that everyone heard. “But she can’t take on a whole coven. So you thought that you’d have your war either way: she’d die and Jonas would retaliate, or he’d wrest her away, but you could still spin the attack and any spilt blood into propaganda to sell to the other covens. To back up the idea that you’ve already been circulating, that this war is just a way for the Circle to destroy you—”
“As they almost did before!” I couldn’t see much, but Ingaret was clearly visible, being surrounded by the boiling heart of the portal, like she’d stepped straight out of hell.
But I knew hell a little these days, and there was nothing there that was any worse than what we made for ourselves right here on earth. In her hatred and jealousy, she’d derail the war, maybe even ensure that we lost it. She’d literally rather die than work together, and there were many who obviously agreed with her.
But there were others—a lot of others, suddenly—who did not.
It looked like Evelyn had brought friends, I thought, seeing vague shadows pushing past the other witches. But instead of lowering the danger in the room, their presence seemed to heighten it. Especially when several dozen wands were drawn, their tips glowing red.
They flashed off Ingaret’s eyes and, for a second, she really did look demonic. But she wasn’t. She was just a woman—a scared one, currently—because this was not going according to plan.
And it was going to go a lot less well if she and her coven lost it and started attacking people.
“Ingaret!” I yelled, snapping her attention back to me. “Enough of this! You want to duel, let’s duel—”
“So be it!” she hissed, and pulled a wand.
“—after these others are evacuated. They have no part in th
is, and I will not have them injured.” I glanced around the room, and weirdly, the same hush had fallen over it that had preceded Jonas speaking earlier. Of course it had, I thought cynically. For all their centuries of experience, the senate only really respected one thing, and that was power.
I wondered if the covens were the same.
“They can take care of themselves!” Ingaret said, a red stream flooding out of her wand. But not at me—not yet. It crawled up into the air like a bloody snake and hung there, I didn’t know why. And then I did, when maybe a dozen more witches pulled their own wands, adding their strength to it.
One of them was the impressive woman from yesterday morning, at the coven’s version of a train station, although she didn’t look too happy to be here. And neither did some of the others. Time to make them unhappier, I thought, and gripped the table harder.
“They can’t, actually,” I said, pulling attention back to me. “If I have to fight all of you at once, I will not be able to precisely control the area of the effect. Not while channeling that much power.” I looked at the consul. “Evacuate this place—and not just this room. Empty the house, and to be on the safe side, get everyone a good half mile away.”
“A half mile!” Ingaret sneered. “You should make your lies more believable!” She looked around at her supporters, who had started glancing at each other. “She lies!”
“I wish I did,” I told her sadly. “But that’s the problem with being only a demigod; there are . . . restrictions. Mine have always been with control. I can channel as much power as my mother ever did—for a short time—but I can’t control it nearly so well. In fact, I’m not even as good at that as Agnes was. She had such fine-tuned control; it was a beautiful thing. Like a dagger between the ribs. While I—”