Page 61 of Ulune's Daughter

“At least five thousand years. Can you trace your heritage back so far, Professor Wyndham?”

“No.” Kellan’s voice is even as she looks out the dusty window. “I’ll admit that for someone with a passion for history, I don’t have much curiosity about my own. I know my father’s family came from Ireland after the potato famine in the eighteen-fifties. I haven’t tried to trace them back any further than that.”

“A strange dichotomy: a scholar of history who has no interest in her own,” Maher says.

“Maybe someday I’ll focus on personal history,” Kellan responds. “At present, I’m more interested in cultural history. Is there something about this region that keeps your tribe rooted in the area or is it just tradition?”

“If there was something, do you think I’d share it with an enemy?” Maher grumbles.

Kellan shrugs. “I came. I brought the cup. I didn’t bring any White Cloaks, even though I know they’re interested in you. I even shared my sweets. I’m not the enemy.”

“And how would you know the Aedis Astrum’s justiciars are interested in me?”

“C’mon, Jakob. You held me and my friends prisoner and talked about raping and breeding us. Even if it was just an intimidation tactic and you didn’t mean it, you don’t think I made it my business to know enough about you to stop you from doing it a second time?”

I cough in surprise. Kellan said she had history with the jackalweres but she didn’t quite explain the extent of it.

“Stop the car,” Maher says to the driver. As the car bumps to a stop, he twists around in his seat and glares at Kellan. “Swear to me on your Mother Goddess that this is not a plot to learn the location of my village and bring harm to my people in retaliation for your abduction. Swear to me that he is not a weapon.”

I freeze. If only he knew what kind of weapon I am.

Chapter21

The Motherwell

KELLAN

Jakob Maher is a special kind of paranoid.

“I swear on the Mother that this is not a plot to learn the location of your village or bring harm to your people,” I tell him. “Rhodes is a teacher at Bevington. He’s interested in my work. He doesn’t have the ax to grind that any other member of my team would have. He’s not going to hurt anyone.”

Rhodes slides me a glance under his dark lashes that I can’t read. Then he smiles and pops another of Jane’s charmed candies. “What she said.”

Maher’s eyes flick from me to Rhodes and back. “I’ll admit I was surprised you didn’t bring Archer or Vivian.”

“I said I wouldn’t. Think what you like of me, but I’m a woman of my word.”

“I think you’re a hypocrite and a grave robber, Professor Wyndham?—”

“Hey,” Rhodes growls.

I just lift my eyebrows. Glass houses. Stones.

“But I haven’t heard of you going back on your word.” Maher twists back around and snaps at the driver in ancient Persian, “Drive on. Catch up with the others.”

No, I don’t speak ancient Persian. But under my plain black tee, I’m wearing several necklaces, one of which is a strand of peacock opals that took me years to collect. Teddy enchanted them for me and now it’s a pretty rare language that I can’t understand.

I offer the bag of candies to Rhodes, take another for myself, and tuck the bag away. Jane’s charms are slow-acting. It’ll be another ten minutes before Maher and the driver are unable to harm anyone. But like all of Jane’s magic, her charms are potent and long-lasting. We should be protected for a day at least. Of course, neither Rhodes nor I will be able to do any harm to Maher or his people, but that’s not what we’re here for. If things get confrontational, I’ll fly us away.

And if things go really badly, I’ll crush the fire opal strung among its blue-green cousins. A failsafe I added after the kidnapping. I’ll admit, I’m not a hundred percent sure what will happen in response to crushing the fire opal. It might be Teddy and some combination of her husbands who show up. It might be my friend Rachel in her enchanted-sword-wielding glory. It might be “Uncle” Jou—the demon lord who is distantly related to Teddy’s husband Gabe—or one of his minions. Whoever responds to my distress signal, they’re the motherfucking cavalry; they’ll make sure Jakob Maher and his pack have a very bad day.

The driver picks up speed to catch up to the rest of the convoy, the SUV bouncing on the rutted track so hard it rattles my teeth. Rhodes reaches over and puts his arm around me, which provides more shock-absorption than the damn car. I’m thinking seriously about crafting an Air cushion, even though I know casting a charm in arms-reach of the jackalweres will probably set them off, when we join a larger road and the ride smooths out.

Rhodes tips his head at me. “Worse than the Thunderbolt at Berkshire East.”

I chuckle. I haven’t been to an amusement park inyears. “Want to put it to the test this weekend?”

“Are you propositioning me, Professor Wyndham?” he asks.

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