“Come on,” he repeated. “Don’t be an old lady.”

I was so angry that my hands shook. This was the worst-case scenario. The whole family was there, all the kids, and all the adults, and just me without anyone on my side.

Xavier waved the rapier in front of me.

Something in me snapped. I took it from him and marched into the circle.

Raul bowed and stepped aside. Xavier took position opposite me and slid into a stance. He probably had fencing lessons in whatever school he went to. I had no lessons, but I had a lot of hate. I had no idea what the point of this was, besides embarrassing me.

“First thing you do is get into en garde position. Like this. Turn your lead foot forward, bend your knees, make sure your knees are over your toes.”

I just stood sideways, the way I always stood, when we practiced self-defense.

“Bend your knees,” Xavier said.

Someone giggled.

“Are we going to fight or are you going to talk all day?” I asked.

The kids oohed. Raul gave me a thumbs-up.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Xavier said. “I’m going to lunge—try to parry.”

The anger and my magic fused together. The world shrank down to just Xavier and me. The sword felt light and flexible in my hand, an extension of me, almost like an arm. I held it in front of me pointing at his midsection.

He lunged.

I shied out of his way and drove the blunted point of the rapier into his ribs on his left.

“Touché,” someone screamed.

Xavier jerked back, anger flickering across his face. “I let you have that one. Are you ready?”

“Are you?”

He attacked. I didn’t know how, but I knew exactly where he would strike. It felt like the sword itself guided me out of the way. I sidestepped and brought my sword with all my strength on top of his blade, knocking it out of his hand.

Xavier stared at me.

“You weren’t ready,” I said. “Your sword is over there. Are you supposed to be good at this?”

Xavier snatched his rapier up. His face was red now. He bared his teeth and lunged. I saw it, as if we were both underwater, the point of his rapier aiming straight for my unprotected face. Somehow I knew there was no time to back up, so I went forward instead, sliding my rapier against his, trying to force it to my right. We collided. The flat of his blade slid against mine, all the way to the guard, and suddenly our faces were very close.

Xavier’s eyes were crazy.

He smashed his forehead into my face. I shied back, but not far or fast enough. Dark circles burst in front of my eyes. It hurt. It really hurt.

Raul was running toward us, and so was Adrianna. Xavier shoved me back. Something slammed into him from the right, knocking him aside like he weighed nothing.

The ground under my feet trembled and a terrible voice sounded from everywhere at once. “Enough.”

Adrianna put her arms around me. “Are you okay?”

I blinked trying to clear the tears from my face. Xavier was sprawled on the ground two dozen yards away, a shocked look on his face. A heavy outdoor cushion pinned him in place. He was struggling to lift it off, his arms shaking with the strain. He should’ve been able to push it off of him, but it trapped him like it was made of cement.

The courtyard was completely silent. I turned and saw Mrs. Rogan on the porch. Magic emanated from her, like an invisible corona. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it and the power in her took my breath away. It was like standing in the eye of a catastrophic storm. You couldn’t see the wind, but you could feel it all around you, and if you took a step, it would rip you apart. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, feeling the terror roll over me in icy waves.

Behind her, her three older siblings and their children looked outraged. The West Wing crowd didn’t share the indignation. Markel and Zorion were sneering; Lucian raised his eyebrows, amused; Mikel and Maria looked alarmed; Eva, Xavier’s mother, glared at Mrs. Rogan, and Iker, Xavier’s father, wore a completely flat expression. The line splitting the family down the middle was never so clear.

Mrs. Rogan turned her head and stared at Eva. Her magic turned with her and stared at Eva, too, like an ancient dragon noticing a trespasser.

Eva looked at her feet. Her bottom lip trembled.

Iker stepped in front of his wife and bowed his head. “Our sincerest apologies. He is young and stupid. We meant no disrespect.”

Mrs. Rogan spoke, and her voice reverberated through me, pulsing in my bones. The water in the fountain shook. “Take him to your rooms. He does not come out unless I call for him.”

Iker strode to his son. The cushion lifted on its own and moved back to the outdoor sofa on the porch. Nobody moved to help Iker. He grabbed Xavier by his right shoulder and hauled him upright.

“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. Rogan asked.

The dragon was looking at me. I had to say something, and it was so hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I am so very sorry,” Mrs. Rogan said. “Please forgive me.”

I wanted to fall through the ground and keep falling until I was on the other side of the world. “It’s okay. I’m fine, everything is fine. It’s all good.” I clicked my teeth shut before any more rambling nonsense came out.

“Very well. I think I will retire to my office. I’ve had all the excitement I could stand.” The dragon folded her wings collapsing back, and Mrs. Rogan turned her wheelchair and rolled back into the house.

I turned and fled toward the gate as fast as I could. A familiar Honda Element drove through the gates toward me, Troy behind the wheel. I almost ran. The Honda stopped, and I jumped into the passenger seat. Troy was looking at my hand and I realized I was still clutching the stupid rapier. There was blood on the blade. I must have cut Xavier somehow.

“What the hell happened?” Troy asked.

“Too complicated. Could you please just drive?”

Troy turned the car around and drove out of Mountain Rose.

“What took you so long?” I asked.

“We found Sealight,” he said and dropped a duffel bag on my lap.

I unzipped the black duffel. The glittering crown looked back at me, the diamonds sparkling as they caught the light.

The heart-shaped aquamarine was missing.

Chapter 8

I sat on the couch in the dark media room, watching the security feed from the camera. Bern had forwarded it to our tv. The Sealight without the jewel rested on the couch to my left. The bloodstained rapier lay across my lap. My whole face was puffy. A large lump had formed on the right side of my forehead. It throbbed. My skin felt hot and ready to burst. I had an absurd feeling that if my lump healed, a pocket of skin would just sag off the side of my face. Google would probably tell me I was crazy, but I didn’t care enough to do a search on it. I stopped caring about a lot of things. It had been that kind of a day.

On the screen, the table and chairs where I had interviewed Maria and Lance waited quietly for the victims of Bern’s phone spoofing.

Mom walked into the room and flicked the lights on. “Why are you sitting by yourself in the dark . . .” She saw my face, fell silent, and sat on the couch near me. We sat together and watched the empty table.

“I don’t want to go to college,” I said.

Mom just looked at me.

“There is so much pressure to go to college. It starts from the first day of high school and never lets up. Every grade, every test, every club, every sport, everything matters, and not because you want to do it, but because it might count toward the college scorecard. You’re supposed to do great on your SAT, get a scholarship, graduate with honors, and then leave to have this awesome college experience. Winners go on to colleges, losers stay home and work crappy jobs. Well, I’m a loser, Mom. I think you should go to college if there’s something you want to do that can’t be done without a degree. I don’t know what I want to do. I’m not going to waste your money and I’m not going to torture myself just because someone might think that I failed at life because I didn’t move halfway across the country to get a degree I don’t want.”

I braced myself for the crushing disappointment on Mom’s face.

“Okay,” Mom said.