“I have to admit that I’m curious, though,” Thom said as they headed out into the makeshift corridor. “About her motivations—about why she’s so gung-ho about sinking her claws into someone of your late cousin’s bloodline.”
Phelan’s lips thinned in the dimness. Wind and snow rasped against the roof above them and Thom tried not to wince, hoping against hope that they’d made everything solid enough to weather the storms of winter—a winter that would linger for at least four more months, if he was guessing right.
Thordin glanced at him. “Do you even have an answer to that question?” he asked curiously.
“Yes,” Phelan said slowly, “though I suppose I didn’t quite have it until this moment. The pieces are finally starting to fall into place. She must have known something that I didn’t—that’s why they were always keen to get their hands on him, all of them, I guess.”
“Are you going to share with the class?” Thom asked with a weak, wry smile.
Phelan laughed weakly. “I suppose I could, couldn’t I? I’m thinking that she was playing the long game. She must have known the prophecies were talking about someone from his bloodline. If you want to control the new world at this point in the game, you control that bloodline.”
“Time out, back up.” Thom stared at him, noting that from the glimpse of Thordin that he’d caught out of the corner of his eye that the big warrior didn’t look at all surprised by what Phelan had just said. “What prophecy are we talking about here? Let me guess, it has something to do with the magic sword he’s carrying.”
Phelan winced. “Did I tell you it was a magic sword?”
“It doesn’t matter, after what happened with the firbolg, I was going to figure it out.” Thom frowned. “Does it?”
“Probably,” Phelan muttered.
“No probably about it,” Thordin said, looking at Phelan sternly. “It most certainly does. It has to do with the damned blade, the last princess of Avalon, and prophecy.” His gaze slid toward Thom. “But he doesn’t want to tell you because he’s afraid that you’ll start asking questions about how you and Marin and your son are all caught up in it all, too.”
A strange, queasy feeling gripped Thom’s stomach and he frowned, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. That just confirms that we’re caught up in the same prophecies they are. How is that anything new? He frowned at the ground in front of his feet as they emerged from the corridor and out into the tent beyond. “Well,” Thom said quietly, “he’d be right to be worrying about that, because I would start asking.” He glanced toward Phelan. “And those aren’t tales you’re willing to tell yet, are they?”
“I don’t know,” Phelan said quietly. “Part of me is. The rest thinks it’d be a bad idea.” He shook his head, his gaze drifting to the darkened sky and the white-out beyond the tent’s walls, visible through the flaps left open for ventilation. “All I know for sure is that I need the two of you alive, Thom,” Phelan murmured. “I need both of you alive and preferably whole—the same as Cameron and Neve.” His eyes slid shut for a moment. “Some prophecies say that your sons are the important ones. I don’t believe them. I believe the others that tell me that you’re just as important—if not moreso.” His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “I have to believe that, Thom. I don’t have any choice.”
Thom shivered. He wanted to ask why, but his gut warned him not to. The answer, he somehow knew, was one he wouldn’t like.
He threw his arm around Phelan’s shoulders. “Right, well. Better make sure we live to fight another day. Let’s see to our arsenal.”
“Aye,” Phelan murmured. “Let’s do that.”
They walked on, Thordin trailing in their wake.
