What could only be called a very human smirk crossed the queen’s delicate features. “They wanted immortality. I merely gave it to them.” She cocked her head. “Shall we wager upon the outcome?”

“Yes, I wager he’ll lose,” Adam said rapid-fire. There it was, what he’d been waiting for. The queen was the most powerful creature of their race.

And hated to lose. Though she would not raise a hand to help him, at least now, she would not raise her hand to harm him.

“Oh, you’ll pay, Amadan. For that, you’ll pay dearly.”

Of that, he had no doubt.

Chapter 17

17

“Stop peering at me like that,” Dageus hissed.

“What?” Silvan bristled. “I’m not allowed to look at my own son?”

“You’re looking at me as if you’re expecting me to sprout wings, a forked tail, and cloven hooves.” No matter that he was feeling as if he might. Since the moment he’d come through the stones, since the moment the thirteen had found their voices, he’d known that the battle betwixt them had moved into a new and much more dangerous arena. The ancients within him had been fed pure power when he’d opened the bridge through time.

With an immense effort of will, he shuttered, closed, tightened himself and projected pretense that all was well and fine. Using magic to conceal his darkness was an egregious error and he knew it, feeding precisely that which he endeavored to hide, but he had to do it. He dare not let Silvan see him clearly at the moment. He needed to search the Keltar library and if Silvan felt him now, God only knew what he’d do. Certainly not wave him into the inner sanctum of Keltar lore.

Silvan looked startled. “Is shape-shifting one of their arts?” he inquired, evincing utter fascination.

Typical Silvan, Dageus thought darkly, curiosity exceeding caution. He’d worried a time or two that Silvan might one day be tempted to dabble in black arts himself, out of naught more than driving curiosity. His father and Chloe shared that, an insatiable need to know.

“Nay. And you’re still doing it,” Dageus said coldly.

“I’m merely curious about the extent of your power.” Silvan sniffed, affecting an unassuming expression. With such piercing intellect in his gaze, it was far from convincing.

“Well doona be. And doona be poking at it.” Och, aye, the ancients inside him were growing more aggressive. Sensing Silvan’s power, they were trying to reach for it. For him. Silvan was far richer fodder than Drustan; he’d always had a stronger center than his sons.