Farilane’s hands spread out across the quilt, feeling around. “The book! The box?”

“He took the box,” Kile told her. “But . . .” Reaching down, he pulled up a leather-bound codex. He placed The Book of Brin on the bed.

Farilane grabbed it away and paid for the act with a horrific stab of pain. Still, it was worth it. Her brother, father, and grandfather weren’t to be trusted with chalkboards, much less a one-of-a-kind foundational treasure. She dragged it to her lap and ran fingers over the cover.

Farilane stared at it. “I don’t understand.” She remembered stubbornly clutching it to her chest as she tried to stop Sheldon. A blaze of light had hit her square on the book’s cover—the same sort of blaze that seconds before had put a hole the size of an apple through Sephryn’s chest. The impact created a brilliant flare that filled the house with white light. She had heard a loud crack and then remembered flying backward as that giant’s hammer struck her.

“I think there’s a reason that book is in such good condition,” Kile said.

We’ve taken good care of it, the abbot had said.

“The monks of Dibben Monastery,” she muttered. She focused on her brother. “They’re magicians.”

Nordyan smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I figured that one out myself. Not hard to do with fireballs flying.”

“That’s right!” Farilane gasped. With the empress dowager lost and the book found, she managed to recall the battle outside the monastery. “I’m sorry I ran like that, I thought—”

“You did the right thing,” Ethan said. “You got out of the way.”

“A bit farther out of the way than I would have preferred,” Nordyan said.

“But it would have been harder with you there,” Ethan concluded.

“How did you manage?”

“The knights protected me,” Nordyan replied. “And the monks protected them.”

“The monks protected you—the imperial prince?” Farilane said. “I’m not sure which is more curious: that the pious and subversive Monks of Maribor are actually wizards, or that they defended members of the imperial family, which was responsible for outlawing them.”

Nordyan shrugged. “Grandfather is going to scream himself hoarse when he finds out.”

Farilane looked into Nordyan’s eyes. “You’re not mad at me?”

“You’re my sister. I’m always mad at you.” He reached out and ruffled her hair. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”