“Yes,” Jack hissed.
The spell tore like a film of oil being swept from the water’s surface. The mirror vanished, revealing a perfectly transparent sheet of glass and Brennan behind it. Rage distorted his face. Angelia flattened herself against the wall. Rene bristled. Richard remained impassive, like a dark shadow. He was looking straight at the dining room. No alarm registered on his face. The spell must’ve worked as intended—from inside the side room, the glass still appeared to be mirrored.
“They know nothing,” Brennan snarled, his voice slightly muffled but clearly recognizable as it issued from the grates hidden among the ornaments on the wall. “They have nothing, they know nothing, they are lying.”
The Grand Thane raised his hand. The noise in the dining hall died, as if cut off by a sword.
“Wake up!” Rene snapped. “They know. We should deal.”
Brennan hammered a punch into Rene’s jaw. The blond man staggered back.
“Now you listen to me, all of you.” Brennan barked. “There will be no deals. Don’t speak to anyone, don’t say anything, don’t even break wind without clearing it with me first. If you do, I will crush you. Don’t think for a second that you will get out of this unscathed, while I’ll go down. I’m a royal peer of the realm. You’re nothing. You’re trash.”
He spun to Angelia. “You’re a whore who can’t keep her legs together. You”—he turned to Rene—“are a fop and a weakling.” He faced Richard. “You’re a greedy coward. I can replace every one of you, and there will be a dozen fighting to take your places. I made you what you are. I took the fractured bandits and scum and molded them into a military force. Not a single slave was sold on this coast in the last five years without my getting a cut. I command three hundred slavers. I own the seaboard. I am the real power.”
The Grand Thane rose. His eyes bulged. His face turned purple with rage. George felt an overpowering urge to be very quiet and small.
“You want to open your mouths? Try it. You won’t live to see the sunset. Do you hear me?”
The Grand Thane started toward the glass.
Brennan spun, his eyes deranged. “You will be lucky if I kill you. I may just strip you of everything you are. I’ll have you sold to the vilest degenerate I can find. You’ll end your days drowning in the basest of perversities, kept on a chain for his amusement—”
The Grand Thane grabbed the nearest chair, almost as an afterthought, and smashed it into the glass. Shards rained down, scattering across the floor. Suddenly, the two rooms became one. Brennan saw everyone in the dining hall looking at him and froze.
“You vain, pathetic brat,” the Grand Thane roared.
Brennan reached for his sword. “Don’t put your hands on me, old man!”
“These hands will end you, boy!”
Rene put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
A hair-thin streak of pure white flash pulsed from the left, and hit Rene’s hand. Blood poured. Rene screamed.
At the far table, Lorameh stood calmly, white lightning dancing on his fingers. There was something familiar about his face. The recognition hit George like a punch. “Erwin!”
The man had been his supervisor for two years. How the hell did he not recognize him? He wasn’t even wearing much of a disguise.
“Of course, it’s Erwin,” Jack said. “He smells the same. Did you just now figure it out?”
Magic sparked in Brennan’s eyes. A shield of white cloaked him.
The Grand Thane planted his feet.
Richard backed out of the room into the hallway.
White streaks of lightning clutched at the Grand Thane’s hair. An enormous magical pressure built around him, winding about the old man like a cocoon streaked with radiant veins of power. Shit.
People at the front tables scrambled away.
“We have to go!” Jack jumped up.
“No need,” Lady Olivia said.
A whip of white lightning shot from Brennan at the Grand Thane’s chest and bounced off. He’d actually tried to kill his own grandfather.
“I began you,” the Grand Thane thundered. “I will end you, whelp!”
He opened his arms, his palms up. A brilliant ball of coiled magic spun between them.
“Stay close to me, children,” Lady Olivia said.
Kaldar popped up between the tables and dashed over to them.
A wall of white sheathed Brennan.
The pressurized cocoon of magic tore. A torrent of power ripped out of the Grand Thane. The flash explosion smashed into Brennan.
Kaldar landed between Jack and George. George braced for the blast wave. His flash shield was strong, but he wasn’t sure it would hold.
A sphere of white unfolded from Lady Olivia, encasing the table. Around them, tables flew back, as if slapped by a giant’s hand. The duchess sipped from her cup.
The sphere melted.
The walls of the side room had disappeared. A colossal hole gaped in the side of the castle. Angelia lay on the floor. Rene was crouched against a sidewall. Brennan stood, unharmed. He’d shielded himself and Rene, who’d hidden directly behind him.
Brennan unsheathed his blade. “Is that it, old man? That’s all?”
No more magic. It must’ve taken all of Brennan’s power to shield himself.
The Grand Thane had no sword.
Brennan struck, a fast overhand blow. His sword gleamed in the sun and clanged against Richard’s blade. It wasn’t Casside’s rapier but Richard’s own sword.
Richard’s jacket was gone. He wore a loose white shirt. Tiny red dots marked Richard’s face and hands. Blood, George realized. Richard’s flash screen was weak. He had managed to block enough of the Grand Thane’s explosion to survive the blast, but it had cost him, and now he was bleeding from every pore. They called it flash punch, a sure sign that his magic was expended—and so was Brennan’s. Without their magic, if they fought now, it would be down to sword against sword.