“You know him?” I ask her.
“Of course. I did an exchange term with the fae in eleventh grade. I worked beneath him for months. He is extremely powerful.”
“He’s my brother,” I tell her. “Half, actually.”
“No fucking way.” Her eyes get bigger and her mouth drops open. She looks at Baspin for confirmation.
“The girl tells the truth.” Baspin has his legs crossed, one hand curled around the side of his face with his elbow propped on the arm of the chair. He seems bored, but I think that’s just the way he is.
“How do I best him?” I ask them both.
“It won’t be easy,” Baspin says.
“I need everyone to stop telling me things will be easy or hard.” I give Bran and Cal a pointed look.
Cal laughs through his nose and shakes his head. Bran just scowls at me.
“What would either stop Arion or subdue him?” I ask.
“I wish I could tell you I could help you with witch magic.” Bianca frowns, her perfectly shaped brows sinking over her green eyes. “But if I’m being totally honest, witch magic is beneath fae magic. We usually need something to draw from. Blood, plants, elements. Fae magic can function on its own. It needs no source. It is the source.”
I had no idea. And having no idea how the different magics even work is an embarrassing underscore on just how much I don’t know about who and what I am. Or what I’m capable of.
“Okay.” I glance at Baspin. “You got anything?”
“Well.” He pulls his hand away from his face and straightens in the chair. “Weapons used against other fae are crafted with fae magic. There are lots of fae weapons in our realm and in yours. Obviously retrieving one from your side would be easier than journeying into the fae realm. So my question would be, do you know of anyone in Midnight who possesses objects crafted by the fae?”
My mind goes to Stanley first. Maybe he has weapons hiding in the diner? But no, I don’t think so. It’s not like he crafted a magical spatula in his spare time. And what would I do with that anyway? Tempt Arion out of hiding with a magical grilled cheese?
So Stanley is out.
And then I remember something I spotted on Rita’s shelves in her office in the back of the coffee shop when I confronted her about the amulet.
“What about a red flower called fae quarrel?” I ask.
Baspin sits upright. “Are you sure it wasn’t Qua rrel?”
When he pronounces it, it sounds like two words, not one, with a roll of his tongue on the R.
“Maybe?” I admit. The label on Rita’s jar was peeling and faded, the handwriting hasty. “Why?”
He narrows his eyes. “Where do you have a Qua rrel?”
“Tell me what it is first.”
With a sigh, he says, “The fae Qua rrel is typically crafted from faerie botanica rubrum and if the one you have is red, then it sounds authentic. But the rubrum were destroyed in the Autumn Revolt.”
“Why?” I ask.
“The Royal line from the Winter Court has the ability to control with their voice. But many years ago, they learned that if they put their magic into the rubrum flower, they could cast their control.”
“So the flower is like a speaker or something?”
Baspin shakes his head. “It emits no sound. It’s nearly undetectable. You merely speak into it what you want done and then place it wherever needed. In this case, you’d want it in the same room with Arion for it to work.”
Despite the fact that I haven’t set eyes on this flower in weeks, and don’t even know if Rita would give it to me, or if I have the ability needed to put my magic into it, I ask Baspin, “Would you be willing to take it to Arion?”
He grins a smug, crooked grin. “Of course, Your Highness.”