I actually hadn’t, and I’d put that gaffe down to tiredness.

“If your employers attack us, we’ll simply use you as a shield,” Cynwrig said. “More than happy for you to take the bullets meant for me.”

“They’re not going to kill me. They need me.”

I laughed. “They need the Eye, Tia, and someone capable of using it. That’s me, not you.”

“And if you’re dead, I’m their only option.”

“Logic isn’t your best attribute, is it?” Cynwrig drawled. “If you hand Bethany over, why then would they need you?”

She didn’t say anything. Perhaps that thought hadn’t occurred to her.

“How long have we got before your friends arrive?” he continued.

She shrugged. “Five, maybe ten minutes, if you’re lucky.”

“More likely a minute or two, if I’m reading the wind correctly,” I said.

“Then we need to move.” He glanced at me. “Do you want to weave your magic on her while I set up a little welcome surprise for our guests?”

Vincentia’s gaze jumped to mine, her expression fierce and angry. “I’ve been cooperating, and there’s no need to employ controlling magic. Besides, it’s against the code to do so to kin.”

“So my brother tells me.” I pushed slowly to my feet and walked over. “I take as little notice of him as I will of you.”

She took a step forward, intending to gods only knows what, but stopped when Cynwrig pointed the gun at her nose.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

“Remember that whole spiel you gave about shooting and jail?” she said. “That applies just as much to you, bud.”

Cynwrig’s smile was as far from pleasant as you could possibly get. “Except I’m Myrkálfar. Trust me when I say that there are pits in this world so deep and dark your body will never be found. And I can access them from this house if I want to.”

I had no doubt he meant every word and, finally, so did she. Her face paled and she quickly said, “There’s no need to magic me. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Of course you will,” I said and reached for her.

She jumped back to avoid the touch, caught the edge of bedside table, and stumbled. Cynwrig lunged forward to grab her but wasn’t fast enough. She smacked her head against the wall dividing this cottage from its neighbor and crumpled to the floor.

Cynwrig knelt next to her, checking the back of her head then feeling for a pulse. “No obvious sign of damage. Hopefully she’s just knocked herself out.”

Relief stirred through me. Despite everything, I didn’t want her dead. Locked up in jail for the next ten years or so? That had definite appeal.

He made the gun safe, shoved it through his belt at the back of his jeans, and then reached for a couple of rocks, quickly fashioning them into hand and leg cuffs.

Just as he finished securing them, the wind shared the sounds and images of what lay outside. The lights had stopped. Shadowed figures now moved with intent through the storm-swept darkness, heading to this house.