The Eye was definitely disputing that thought. It burned so brightly I could see the purple flares of its lightning through the dark blue silk of its bag.

It was tempting, very tempting, to put the lid back on the box, tuck it into my backpack, and deal with the whole thing later. But instinct immediately suggested that would be a very bad idea, and while I had no idea why, I wasn’t going to ignore it. Not this time. Not for something as important as this.

I hesitated, then drew both my knives. I’d barely pulled them clear of their sheaths when they began to pulse, but this time their light was unlike anything I’d seen them emit.

“Bethany? Everything okay?” Cynwrig asked.

“I think I’ve found the book, but goddess only knows what’s going to happen when I pick it up.”

“You want me in there?”

I hesitated, tempted, but if things did go wrong then one of us needed to be alert and mobile. “Best to keep watching the street, just in case me touching the codex sets off a spell or an alarm.”

“Have you checked it?”

“The knives are reacting to its presence, but not in the same way they would if there was a spell attached.”

He grunted. “Be careful.”

I half smiled. “I suspect me being careful isn’t going to alter what happens when I touch this thing.”

“Then don’t touch it,” he said. I don’t want you hurt was what he meant.

I had no idea where that insight came from.

“This book is part of my heritage, Cynwrig. I have to do this if we’re to get any answers. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t say anything, but his concern continued to wash through the air.

I undid the silk bag and rolled the Eye into my palm. Then, before I could think about the wisdom of what I was doing, I followed gut instinct, pressed the Eye against the knife hilts, and then touched their points to the book.

The reaction was instant and explosive.

Light erupted from all three items, a kaleidoscope of color that whirled around me with dizzying force, blinding me, burning me, even as it swept me up and then swept me away. Not physically. Not exactly. I could still feel the carpet under my feet and the tremor of wood song beyond that, but those sensations were growing weaker with every passing beat of my heart. It felt as if I was falling into a maelstrom of color in the same way that I had fallen into darkness when I’d visited Eithne’s monument. Except there was no heartbeat here, just the light. Light that was drawing ever closer to my being, as if it meant to consume me.

Fear surged. I tried to move my hands, tried to yank the knife points away from the book, but to no avail. The vortex’s grip just strengthened, and it swept me away without mercy, until all I could see, all I could feel, was its whirlwind.