“Yes, I’ve got a price on my head and every other body part,” I said. “Do either one of you have a point?”

Phaelan’s laugh was more like a bark. “Live fast, die young, and leave behind a damned fine-dressed corpse.”

My cousin favored scarlet, but today he was a vision in royal blue. His trousers were leather; his doublet was suede slashed to reveal the whitest of linen shirts. High leather boots matched his belt and baldric, all of black leather, and his dark hair was tied into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. Phaelan’s favorite rapier swung comfortably at his side, with a brace of long daggers behind his back. There were plenty of other bladed weapons out of sight, but within quick reach. Our family didn’t like to be caught short.

I made a show of looking him over. “Much like yourself?”

Phaelan leveled those dark eyes on me. “Cousin, you can slink around this island in black or brown, or you can show the bastards that your balls are bigger than theirs. You’re the Saghred’s best friend; they’re scared shitless of you.”

The aforementioned bastards also wanted what I had-potentially unlimited power without the insanity and death side effects that typically went with Saghred exposure and use. But just because contact with the rock hadn’t turned me into a cackling loony or killed me yet didn’t mean that a padded room with level twelve wards wasn’t in my not-so-distant future.

I had to be careful; more than careful-vigilant. Of the Saghred, but mostly of myself. As long as I tapped its power, the rock didn’t give a damn what I did with it. Even though I had done only good things for the right reasons-like refusing to stand by and let innocent people be killed-using the Saghred’s power to prevent those deaths had probably brought me one step closer to crazy. Or not. Everyone else who had used the Saghred had quickly gone off the deep end. I hadn’t. And no one, including me, knew why.