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.He broke out in welts and rashes, and grew thin and pale and hollow-eyed, as if he had some wasting disease.At first Madison thought it was the aftermath of the ordeal on the island.She assumed time would heal him, but he only got worse.His hands shook and his changeable eyes went cloudy and dull and twice he fainted at school.Seph’s parents took him to England for Christmas and he seemed to improve, but took ill again when he came back to Trinity.His mother, Linda, fussed over him and called in the healer Mercedes Foster, who prescribed fresh air and sunshine and good food and potions and amulets that did no good.When Mercedes finally put him to bed, Madison spent long hours sitting with him, reading to him, holding his hand.She guessed she wasn’t much of a nurse, because he only seemed to grow weaker.Then Madison went home for a long weekend.When she came back, Seph was out of bed and feeling better.He looked like a different person, more like his old self.But not for long.And that was when she knew.Sometimes she wondered if she was possessed.She could feel something evil inside her react to Seph’s presence, like a serpent uncoiling.Her touch was toxic.No one else seemed to make the connection, least of all Seph.And if they found out.So she began avoiding him, avoiding his touch especially, making excuses.And dying inside every time.Madison turned onto Jefferson Street, negotiating the icy bricks.Jefferson was lined with tall oaks and gracious “painted ladies.” That’s what they called these Victorian houses iced with turrets, spindles, and wraparound porches.Jack shared an elegant green-shingled Queen Anne with his mother.Jack’s mother, Becka, and Seph’s mother, Linda, were sisters in a family full of secrets.Linda was an enchanter, a master of charisma—seduction, some said.Becka was Anaweir—she wasn’t magical, and she knew nothing about the magic going on all around her.Madison paused at the foot of the driveway.Seph’s car was parked next to the side entrance.She knocked on the screen door.No answer.Pounded on the inside door.Nothing.She tried the knob, and it was unlocked.“Anybody home?” she called, pushing the door open and poking her head into the foyer.He was in there somewhere.She could feel his presence in the acceleration of her heartbeat, a faint vibration in her bones.Witch boy.She crossed the foyer and passed down the hallway to the family room at the rear.And froze in the doorway.Seph lay sprawled on the rug in front of the hearth.His face beneath the dark curls was pale and chiseled as porcelain, save the dark smudges under his eyes.He was frowning, lips parted, as if he’d succumbed between two words.For a terrible moment, she thought he was dead, until she saw the faint rise and fall of his chest.“Good day, Maddie.” The wizard Nick Snowbeard half-rose from his chair in the hearth corner and draped a quilt over Seph, then settled back into his seat by the fire.“It is a pleasure to see you, as always.”She dropped to her knees next to Seph, her heart clamoring in her chest, worrying she was somehow responsible.“What happened? Is he.?”The old caretaker tilted his head, looking surprised.“Why, my dear, he’s sleeping, of course, though he isn’t particularly happy about it.”Madison looked at Seph, as if he might have a comment, then back at Snowbeard.Worry turned to irritation.“He’s taking a nap? We were supposed to meet two hours ago.”“The boy is exhausted.He’s overextended himself, maintaining the boundary twenty-four hours a day.” The old wizard pressed his fingers between his briared eyebrows, as if he had a headache.Old Bear, the gifted called him, or sometimes, the Silver Bear.He did resemble a slightly rumpled bear rousted from his den in midwinter.“It was a breakdown in communications,” Snowbeard went on.“Too much to do, and too few people to do it.Hastings is away, and I was.unexpectedly delayed.I had no idea he’d been on his own so long, and it’s not in his nature to ask for help.But now I’ve relieved him, and I put him to sleep, over his protest.”Madison leaned forward, clutching her skirts in her fists.“He’s always falling asleep in school.Plus, he missed a lot of school back in the fall, when he was so sick.” And whose fault was that? “I didn’t think you were allowed to work somebody to death like this.I guess there aren’t any child labor laws for wizards.”Snowbeard lifted a teacup from the side table and took a long swallow.He set it back on the saucer with trembling hands, china clattering against china.“My dear, I am.sorry.Although he is young, he is the most powerful wizard we have at our disposal, aside from his father and me.Iris is willing, but she just isn’t strong enough to manage the boundary for long.It’s incredibly draining.There are others who are not particularly trustworthy.Most wizards have sided with the Roses or D’Orsay.Many of the Dragon partisans don’t consider the sanctuary to be a priority, now that the war’s broken out.”“But you do.”“I think we need a place of safety, yes, or we’ll be ground to dust between the stones of wizard ambition.Have you noticed that the town is full of gifted refugees?”Of course she’d noticed.These were well-educated people, people with money, gifted artists who moved into shops around the square.The Wizard Houses considered them rebels for their refusal to support the war.And the more non-wizard Weir crowded in, the more Trinity seemed like a target.Which didn’t fit in with Madison’s plans at all.She sat next to Seph with her back against the hearth, conscious of maintaining some small space between them.The snow from her boots melted into puddles on the hardwood floor.“I wish you wouldn’t let all those people in here.”“You can hardly blame them for seeking sanctuary,” Nick said.“Wizards are snatching up the non-wizard Weir all over the world, recruiting them for the war effort.They need sorcerers to build weaponry, warriors to wield it, seers to look into the future and plan strategy, enchanters for espionage purposes.”He sighed.“This can only spell disaster.For centuries, wizards haven’t dared to openly war on each other, for fear of breaking the Covenant and rousing the dragon that sleeps in Raven’s Ghyll.I suppose wizards don’t believe in dragons—or the Covenant—anymore.” The old man’s voice trailed off
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