“If he was a member of the Black Circle,” Pritkin said. “But we don’t know that he was. The Circle chooses to believe the rumors at present because it suits their purpose.”

“And if it is true?”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he said urgently.

“Except that my father was a monster.” I’d never been under the illusion that he was some kind of saint—no one at Tony’s was. But this . . . no. I hadn’t really been prepared for this.

I felt hands on me, turning me around. The little dagger-shaped links of the bracelet around Pritkin’s wrist slipped over my skin, feeling suddenly oily and strangely heavy.

I’d acquired it in a fight with a dark mage, when it deserted him for me. Ever since, it had clung to my wrist whether I liked it or not, defeating all attempts to remove it. At the time, I’d assumed that it had simply gravitated to the greater source of power, which due to my new position was me. But what if there had been another reason? What if it had been drawn to the greatest potential for evil?

“Cassie!” Pritkin’s hands tightened on my shoulders, hard enough to be painful. I looked up, hurt and confused. “My father is a demon lord,” he said crisply. “I win.”

Pritkin isn’t kind, exactly, or tactful at all, but he still sometimes manages to say the right thing at the right time. I guess if there was one thing he knew about, it was dysfunctional families. It didn’t make things all right—I had a feeling nothing was going to do that for a long time. But it helped. Even with Rosier for a father, he’d turned out okay. Better than okay, I thought, smiling at him.

“Thanks.”

He inclined his head. “No problem. But if you mention anything about getting in touch with my feminine side, I will shoot you.”

And for the first time in days, I laughed.

“We have to discuss Jonas’ offer eventually,” Pritkin pointed out few minutes later.

And yes, we did. But I didn’t have to like it.

We’d been sitting watching Marsden pick things out of his overrun garden. He’d acquired a hat, I noticed, and squashed most of the hair underneath. He looked almost normal.

“I have a theory about war mages,” I said. “The more powerful they are, the worse the hair.”

“Cassie.”

“You could make my day and tell me Saunders is bald.”

“And you could make mine by facing up to this.”

I scowled. “I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about joining a coup.”

“There no longer seems to be much choice.”

“What happened to wait and see? A few hours ago—”

“A few hours ago, I hadn’t heard Tremaine’s evidence. A few hours ago, I hadn’t seen the newspaper. Jonas is correct. Leaking that story is a clear-cut sign of the Circle’s intentions. If Saunders had any plans to work with you, he would be suppressing unfavorable press, not assisting it.”

Yeah. That was the way it looked to me, too. I sighed. “What do you know about Marsden?”

“He led the Circle ably for many years. He can be hide-bound and intransigent on certain issues, he prefers to keep his own counsel—to the point of being secretive—and he is prickly and difficult at times—”

“In other words, a typical war mage.”

“—but overall, he’s a good man.”

“Can he win?”

Pritkin was silent for a moment. “Had you asked me that question twenty years ago, I would have said yes. But now . . . I don’t know.”

“Your best guess, then.”

“Jonas’ knowledge is certainly greater, and he has more experience. But his power has waned in recent years. Of the two, Saunders is stronger.”

“Then wouldn’t it make more sense for someone else to issue challenge?”

“Only a Council member has the right. Anyone else would be summarily dispatched by Saunders’ bodyguards. And that is assuming anyone could be found willing to take the risk. It is a duel to the death.”

I swallowed. Wonderful. “So it’s a long shot or no shot at all.”

“Essentially.”

I stared at the chimney and wished my head didn’t hurt. “Saunders will be at a reception the Senate is giving tomorrow,” I finally told him.

Pritkin’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ll be there, too. Mircea arranged it. The Senate has some plan to get me confirmed, only nobody’s telling me what it is. I guess they think Saunders is less likely to try something in front of them.”

“That could work,” he said thoughtfully. “If Jonas challenges there, not only will Saunders’ entourage hear it, the Senate will as well. There will be no way to refuse, and a cover-up will be impossible.”

“Yeah.” The only question was how the Senate would take having me bring a fight into the middle of their big party. Even if by some miracle this all worked out . . . I winced. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

“You think the Senate will object to having us there?” Pritkin asked, watching me.

“Us?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t really think I would let you and Jonas go alone?”

“Afraid you’ll miss out on some of the crazy?” He just looked at me. “I’ll take care of the Senate,” I told him. “They want this finished as badly as we do. You just keep the Circle from trying anything.”

“Ah. The easy job, then.”

“Pritkin, haven’t you figured it out yet? We don’t get the easy jobs.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Marsden was elbow-deep in flour when we went back in, shaping homemade dough with a wooden rolling pin. “I’m making lasagna for lunch,” he told us, “if you’d like to stay?” My borrowed stomach rumbled embarrassingly despite the fact that it had just finished breakfast. I stared down at it in annoyance and Marsden laughed. “I take it that’s a yes?”

Pritkin went back upstairs for his weapons while I sat at the table and listened to Marsden’s stories about Agnes. Highly unlikely stories. “She was messing with you,” I told him. “She did not date Caesar.”

“I admit, I found that one a little hard to swallow—”

“She couldn’t have shifted that far back,” I explained. “It would have killed her.”

“Oh, I assure you, she could. She traveled even farther than that for us on more than one occasion.”

“I don’t see how. The farthest back I’ve gone was the sixteenth century, but that was in spirit. I don’t know if I could make it that far with my body.”

The rolling pin hit the table top as loudly as a gavel. “You’ve gone back in time with your body?” He looked outraged.

“Uh, yeah?”

“For what possible reason?”

“Because I can’t stay anywhere long enough to get anything done when I’m in spirit form. I’m like a ghost with nothing to haunt—my energy gives out after a few hours and I have to shift back. Not to mention that trying to do anything without a body is really—”

“But you can have your pick of bodies! You’re Pythia. You can possess anyone you choose! That is the reason you have that power, to make time shifting less perilous!”

I didn’t reply, but I thought about Agnes’ shoulder wound. It seemed like she hadn’t told Marsden everything. She probably hadn’t wanted to worry him, but obviously she’d taken her body along from time to time. Maybe there were missions where possessing someone was just too dangerous. Getting the person she was possessing shot might screw up the very time line she was trying to fix. Or maybe she hadn’t liked possessions any more than I did.

“And how do you know that, Jonas?” Pritkin demanded from the stairway, his old coat draped over his arm.

“Lady Phemonoe mentioned it,” Marsden said, grabbing a knife and cutting board and laying into some onions.

“Odd that she never told anyone else,” Pritkin said, handing me his boots. I took them gratefully. Summer in Britain was a lot different than July in Nevada, and my toes were cold.

Marsden looked a little shifty. “Yes, well, we worked together a long time and . . . she trusted me.”

Pritkin’s eyes narrowed. “Enough to spill age-old secrets?” “We didn’t have in-depth discussions. It was just a . . . a slip of the tongue, here and there.”

“A slip of the tongue?” Pritkin repeated, and something about the way he said it made Marsden go all pink.

“John!”

“Jonas, are you blushing?”

“It’s hot in here!” Marsden said testily. “You might have installed some proper ventilation.” He’d opened a window, but most of the fragrant steam had chosen to hang around.

“That’s a bit tricky with stone walls,” Pritkin said dryly. “And you’re evading the issue.”

Marsden glanced at me. “Do you know, I think I need more basil. Cassie, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Oh, I’d mind,” I said, planting elbows on the table and looking at him expectantly.

He sighed and added the onions to a pot on the stove, showing us his back in the process. “She was . . . we were . . . good friends, as well as colleagues.”

Again, it wasn’t so much what was said, as how he said it. “Wow.” I was impressed. “You and Caesar—”

Marsden threw some mushrooms in a colander a little harder than necessary. “Yes. Well. As you say. But that isn’t the point, is it? The point is that you’ve been doing it wrong, child.”

“Yeah. Imagine that. And with all of thirty seconds’ training, too.”

“You’re fortunate to still be alive!” he said sternly. “Do you have any idea how many diseases you could have encountered in the past? How many times you might have eaten foods that, while perfectly safe for the people of the time, would be deadly to you? And that is assuming the dark mage you are chasing doesn’t kill you first!”