Page 132 of Of Nine So Bold

“Water,” Clay said at the same time Lars spoke up, “Fire.”

Ignatius chuckled. “Fate has a sense of humor, doesn’t it?” He glanced at Byron. “If I recall, your mentor Dathan told me you had an affinity for… what was it?”

“Energy.” Byron’s voice was like ice.

“Ah yes, lightning and the power of the sun and so forth.”

Byron didn’t respond.

“What of your vampiric friends?”

I could feel the tension rise like static on the air.

Casimir gave the scholar a measured smile that could have meant anything. “Legend has it, my family is descended of angels. My gifts incorporate aspects of those powers.”

Ignatius made an impressed sound. His eyes went to Gwyneira.

Fear gripped me. What did we say? The giants needed to keep believing she was Zeniryan. But if we mentioned witches, would it make Ignatius question that story?

Gods, I didn’t know enough about Zeniryan history to have any idea what the right answer could be.

Gwyneira smiled, and when she spoke, her words were as calm as a windless lake. “My mother was a diamond witch.”

“Truly?” His brow rose and fell. “I knew several of their number. They were as honorable as they were powerful.”

Her polite smile communicated respectful gratitude and nothing more, like a work of art whose calm I could never hope to match.

“But I don’t think I learned your name, dear,” Ignatius continued.

Gods, how the tension rose around me. Could the old scholar feel that? The way every single one of us suddenly became like an animal torn between bolting and attacking?

“Snow,” Byron said suddenly. “Her name is Snow.”

I scrambled to hide my incredulity. Had he honestly just named our treluria after the first thing he saw?

Admittedly, it did sort of fit her.

I damn near scoffed at myself. That hardly mattered. I mean, yes, fine,Snowseemed like a good nickname for her if nothing else. But Byron was a brilliant scholar. Surely he, of all people, knew Ignatius would see through the blatant ruse and demand to know her real name.

But the elderly giant only smiled. “How lovely.”

Gwyneira said nothing while I tried to remember how to breathe.

“The Nine are balanced between so much of this world,” Ignatius continued. “Fire and water. Wood and stone and nature itself. Even the energy of life and magic, and with links to the angelic and demonic realms.” He shook his head as if marveling. “In their joined strength, the power of the wielder at your center must be incredible.”

Forget breathing. Or blinking. Or knowing what the hell to do.

“Joined strength?” Casimir repeated.

“Wielder?” Clay added, looking like he’d never heard of such a thing.

“Well, yes.” Ignatius seemed surprised. “While there have been few studies published concerning the legend of the Nine, the most highly regarded interpretation is indisputable on that point.”

“Whatpoint?” I asked carefully.

Ignatius looked like it was obvious. “That the powers of the Nine are as one, joined to their very core around a central member for the sake of saving the world.”

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