Cynwrig headed into the kitchen while I dropped down beside my brother and said, in a teasing tone, “So, you managed to transcribe it yet?”

He rolled his eyes at me. “We’re not talking about a few pages needing to be transcribed here, you know. It’s the whole notebook, and it holds far more than just information of De Clari. It actually feels like a lifetime’s work.”

“Why would he be keeping a lifetime’s work in a ratty old notebook?” I said, then looked at my brother. “Oh, hang on, asking the wrong person that.”

Lugh snorted. “I do not keep my work solely in notebooks.”

“But you do use them.”

“Because a pen rarely runs out of juice at the wrong moment, and notebooks are easier to carry around than cords and power packs. And you know this.”

I grinned. I did, because I’d teased him about it often enough in the past—especially when said notebooks had gotten damaged after ill-advised journeying into damp caves and other god-forsaken places.

“So, what other sort of information does it contain?”

“So far it’s mostly been a lot of history about the De Clari line, both before and after Rostin.”

I noted the “mostly” and knew that was a deliberate wording choice, but nevertheless asked, “She had children? How, given the life she was leading?”

“It happened after she set up here in England. I’m still working through that section of the notes, but that’s not what is interesting.”

“Is he always this roundabout when it comes to revealing information?” Cynwrig asked. He placed a tray containing two coffees, a pot of tea, and a packet of chocolate digestives on the coffee table. “Sorry about the biscuit choice—they’re my father’s favorites and all we have stocked in the pantry at the moment.”

I reached for one of the biscuits. “Digestives are fine. And yes, it’s a rare moment when Lugh doesn’t take the long road to say something.”

“You two have no sense of the dramatic,” Lugh growled, though the twinkle in his eye countered the edge in his tone. “But fine, spoil the buildup if you must. If Jules’s notes are to be believed, and the people behind the theft of the crown and the search for the remaining Claws are the families of the six elven women killed by the Annwfyn, then finding all three items will do them absolutely no good.”

Cynwrig handed out the drinks and then sat on the coffee table. “Why not?”

“Because it appears only a spellcaster of great power can unlock the combined might of the Claws.”

“Meaning De Clari was a spellcaster?” I asked.

Lugh nodded. “Jules doesn’t believe it was a coincidence that not only was she the first in her line to have such power but also the first to raise the sword.” He glanced at Cynwrig. “It means that, unless elves suddenly gain spellcasting abilities, there has to be someone else behind this sudden push to find the Claws.”

“Someone who’s taking advantage of their grief,” Cynwrig said grimly.