“How can you say that?” Whit says, truly surprised. “The clan is your family. Your world.”
“My world is deceitful. My world decided for me how I was supposed to think. And I’ve pretty much had it with being manipulated. Once we’re safely out of here, I’m gone.”
Whit covers his eyes and exhales deeply. Then he drops his hands and shakes his head. “When it was decided that your mother would be my successor, I knew she would be as powerful a Sage as I had become. We were equals in so many ways.
“But right from the very start, you outshone her. Your gifts were as powerful at five years old as hers were at forty-five. And although her death was tragic, she left you behind to follow what she started. To one day lead the clan.
“Your mother was so proud of you, Juneau. And she would be even prouder if she knew what you were capable of today. You don’t understand how important you are. You have the ability to change humanity.”
Whit’s words are like honey to me. He knows just what buttons to push to make me jump through his hoop. Or at least, he used to. But there is something that is nagging at me, an itch that’s just out of reach. I go over the last few minutes in my mind. There’s something wrong with what Whit said. And then it occurs to me, and it’s like I’ve been punched hard in the stomach. All of my breath is gone. I just stare at Whit, my eyes bugging out of my head.
“What?” he asks, looking concerned.
I close my eyes, and press my hand against my heart as I try to breathe. “You just told me that it was decided that my mom would succeed you. But every time you’ve told me this story before, you told me that you chose her to be your successor.”
“Well, it’s the same thing really,” Whit explains quickly.
“No!” I say, cutting him off. “It’s not the same. Who decided my mom would succeed you?”
“Well, the elders decided that it was better for power to be alternated instead of being in one person’s hands. Your mother, as the only other Conjurer, was the obvious choice to follow me as Sage until you came of age.”
“Whit, that’s not at all the same thing. My mother was going to replace you.” My thoughts are a puzzle, all of its pieces falling together. “And you didn’t like that, did you? She tested my blood before she died. You knew then that I could take her place and Amrit could still be made. What would have happened if she had become Sage? Would you have lost your opportunity to go out into the world? To sell the Amrit that she believed was better hidden from the rest of humanity?
“However, if I became Sage, after all of your tutelage, you knew I would be loyal to you. That I wouldn’t go against what you wanted . . . to sell Amrit. You didn’t do it for the money. Or for the clan. You did it for yourself. For the fame. I know you, Whit. Ensuring that your name would go down in history—that all of those old academic colleagues you always talked about who thought you were crazy would put you on a pedestal—that would be worth more to you, Whit, than any fortune Amrit could bring you.”
Whit’s eye has started twitching, and the look on his face says that he wants to shut me up.
“You killed my mom, Whit. Didn’t you?”
When he speaks, his voice is low and menacing. “I had nothing to do with your mother’s death, Juneau.”
I study his face. Take a good long look to interpret his features, like he taught me to. “No, you didn’t kill her. But you Read that she would die. No one would have thought to Read into the future for her death . . . there was no reason for anyone to think about it. Except you. You sought for anything that might harm her in the coming years. You Read it, and you did nothing to prevent it.” I watch his expression and know I am right.
Whit’s face contorts into a mask of fury. “That doesn’t matter now!” he screams. He grabs my shoulders and starts shaking me. “I trained you, Juneau. Everything you know . . . everything you can do is because of me. You are mine. And you are coming with me right now.” He grabs me by the arm and starts dragging me toward the car.
With a keening screech, Poe flies down out of nowhere and dive-bombs Whit’s head. Whit drops my hand, and starts swatting the attacking bird away. And then he lets out a shriek and falls to the ground.
A crossbow bolt sticks out of the arm he was dragging me with, and Whit is clawing at it, trying to pull it out. I leap on top of him, knocking him flat on his back, and pinning his shoulders to the ground. Unsheathing my knife, I hold it beneath his chin.
“You let my mom die. You manipulated me. You betrayed our clan.”