“If you’d like to help protect His Highness, you’ll be needing the practice. Shall we begin?”
The phones rose into the air, hovered five feet off the ground, and buzzed merrily as their antigravity hands-free selfie spells activated, then began blasting Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe.”
“Now,” Lumina instructed. Tala reached out toward the floating devices, felt the telltale crackle of energy in her hands. There were several category three spelltech apps installed in each phone, and she could taste each and every one of them. The sensation of mint-cool air on her tongue—that was the levitation spell. Another with a heady rosewood smell, coupled with just the hint of lilacs—a charisma add-on for texting. She ignored them, seeking out the spell that felt rich and buttery: the music app.
The song cut off abruptly.
It was one thing to stop magical devices from working within a given range. It was another to isolate and prevent only one spell within that device from working while keeping the rest active. Doing so to multiple phones at the same time upped the difficulty level exponentially. If Tala had to describe her agimat, she would have likened it to a sphere with herself at its center. Magic within it didn’t work, but she could expand or contract that sphere however she wanted, to allow spells to function. It required a lot of patience Tala wasn’t always ready to have.
“Six o’clock.”
Tala allowed the phone at the six o’clock position to slip free from her agimat, and it resumed playing where Carly Rae had left off.
Alex stepped out of the house next door, nearly colliding with one of the titas armed with a bowl of savory sinigang soup. He followed her until she’d set it down on the table, nose twitching.
“No eating until we’re all ready,” the tita warned.
“He’s the guest of honor, ate,” another of the women scolded. “He can eat whenever he likes.”
“I’ll wait,” the prince offered, staring at the ring of mobile phones. “Lola Urduja, what are they doing?”
“Nine o’clock,” Tala’s mother continued.
Sweat shone on Tala’s forehead as she relinquished her hold, cutting off six o’clock’s music. She changed direction, pulling back the curse surrounding the phone at nine o’clock, and the song sputtered back to life there.
“Learning to handle her agimat,” the old woman responded, inspecting one of the viands on the banana leaves. “She hasn’t quite mastered Lumina’s discipline yet, but she’s improving. Even in Invierno, they must be careful. Are these instant noodles, Chedeng?”
The plump, pretty tita with the soup bowl shrugged. “That’s the only thing the general can cook.”
“Chili calamansi,” said General Luna, like that solved everything. He was a tall, stocky man with a luxuriant mustache. His rank was an affectation more than an actual officer designation, but people still called him Heneral.
Lola Urduja sighed. “Chedeng, help your sister bring out the pinakbet, please. Heneral, assist Boy with the lechon.”
“His parents named him ‘Boy’?” Alex asked, amazed.
“Of course not. His name is Jose. Expert marksman. Took out Jon Burge ten years ago, at nearly a thousand yards.”
“Burge?” Alex said. “The torturer? They said he died of natural causes.”
“I know,” Lola Urduja agreed, looking triumphant.
“And if his name is Jose, then why is he called…” Alex closed his mouth, thought better of it, and waited a heartbeat before opening it again. “I know of the Makilings’ long-standing alliance with my kingdom, and also of Maria Makiling, but I’ve never seen their work with my own eyes until today.”
“Then you are aware at the very least of the sacrifice Maria Makiling made when she chose this curse.” In front of them, the general had produced a large cleaver, grinning. Boy wisely backed away, and the other man attacked the lechon with gusto, hacking off bite-sized pieces. “How she deprived herself and her descendants of magic to prevent others from abusing theirs. It has served them well over the centuries, but not without cost.”
“You didn’t need to do all this,” Alex said.
“If it eases your mind, Filipinos will use any reason to plan a boodle fight like this one.” The woman gestured at the table spread. “You were just a bonus.”
“What I meant was, I don’t know if I can ask this again of any of you. I imposed too much on the Locksleys the last time. I’m hesitant about doing the same with the Warnocks.”
“Circumstances are different, hijo. The Locksleys are a little too much in the spotlight now, especially after their eldest married that poor Bluebeard heiress. They agreed it would be too risky to hide you for much longer.”
Alex studied the ground. “Sure. That’s the reason.”
“This is a quiet town, and it’ll be easier to keep you safe here. The Warnocks shall protect you, as will we.”
“But…”
“You ask nothing from us. It is our choice. Like the Locksleys, and the Inoues, and the Eddings, and so many others.”
“Nobody cares,” the prince said, the words harsh and biting. “We protected everyone for centuries. But when Avalon was attacked, no one else raised a finger. They sat and watched my country freeze. They watched my parents die. All they want from me is access to the Avalon mines for our glyphs. They want our spells. They don’t care about any of my people still trapped within. If they’re even alive in there. It was always about the money.”
Lola Urduja spoke, weighing her words carefully against the silence of what she didn’t say aloud. “Few nations liked Avalon. Avalon was a constant meddler of politics, even if they always had the best intentions at heart. Your forbearers warred with Leopold II of Belgium over their treatment of the Congo. They gave out cornucopias during the Great Depression, hoping to mitigate its effects. They fought the radicalization that threatened Europe, and demanded countries adopt the Equality Act in exchange for their spelltech. On paper, this was a good and noble thing to do. But Avalon only treated the symptoms, and not their causes. Avalon helped many people, yes. And many remain grateful. But it is the governments, the leaders, the dictators—they see that we have something they don’t. And that will always be met with anger and resentment. To truly help, we must first understand why they hate and how to bring them away from such hate. And that is infinitely harder to do.”
“I know.” Alex’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe if the firebird came for my father, things would be different. But it didn’t. And if it doesn’t for my eighteenth birthday, then Avalon is truly gone. What would the point of fighting be, then?”