The circle was etched into the floor now, a thin ring of pure white. And his brother’s blood stained the floor and walls outside the door.

Sacrifice, he thought. There was always payment for power. His gift of his mother’s candlestand, Glenna’s of her grandmother’s ring hadn’t been enough.

The light had burned so fierce and bright, so violently hot. Yet it hadn’t scorched his skin. He held his hand up, examined it. Unmarked. Unsteady yet, he could admit. But unmarked.

The light had filled him, all but consumed him. It had twined him so truly with Glenna it had been almost as if they’d been one person, one power.

That power had been heady and fantastic.

And it had whirled out like the wrath of the gods at his brother. Struck down the other half of him while the sorcerer had ridden the lightning.

Now he was empty, hollowed out. What power that remained in him was like lead, heavy and cold, and the lead was coated thick with guilt.

Nothing to be done now, nothing to do but put order back into the room. He busied himself, calmed himself, with the basic tasks. When King rushed into the room, he stood still, arms at his sides, and took the blow he saw coming full in the face.

He had a moment to think it was like being hit by a battering ram as he was launched back against the wall. Then simply slid bonelessly to the floor.

“Get up. Get up, you son of a bitch.”

Hoyt spat out blood. His vision wavered so he saw several black giants standing over him with ham-sized fists bunched. He braced a hand on the wall, dragged himself to his feet.

The battering ram struck again. This time his vision went red, black, shimmered sickly to gray. King’s voice went tinny in his ears, but he struggled to follow the command to get back up.

There was a flash of color through the gray, a stream of heat through the iced pain.

Glenna flew into the tower. She didn’t bother to shove at King, but rammed her elbow viciously into his midsection, then all but fell on Hoyt to shield him.

“Stop it! Get away from him. Stupid bastard. Oh Hoyt, your face.”

“Get away.” He could barely mumble the words, and his stomach pitched violently as he pushed at her and tried to rise again.

“Go ahead and throw one. Come on.” King spread his arms, then tapped his chin. “I’ll give you a free shot. Hell, I’ll give you a couple of them, you miserable son of a bitch. It’s more than you gave Cian.”

“He’s gone then. Get away from me.” Hoyt shoved at Glenna. “Go ahead,” he told King. “Finish it.”

Though his fists remained bunched, King lowered them a fraction. The man was barely standing, and blood ran from his nose, his mouth. One eye was already swelling shut. And he just swayed there, waiting to take another hit.

“Is he stupid, or just crazy?”

“He’s neither,” Glenna snapped. “He thinks he’s killed his brother so he’ll stand here and let you beat him to death because he blames himself as much as you blame him. And you’re both wrong. Cian’s not dead. Hoyt, he’s going to be fine. He’s resting, that’s all. He’s resting.”

“Not gone?”

“You didn’t pull it off, and you won’t get a second chance.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Glenna whirled to King. “Nobody tried to kill anyone.”

“Just step away, Red.” King jerked a thumb. “I’m not looking to hurt you.”

“Why not? If he’s responsible, so am I. We were working together. We were doing what we came here to do, damn it. Cian came in at the wrong time, it’s as simple and as tragic as that. If Hoyt could, and would, hurt Cian like that purposely, do you think you’d be standing there? He’d cut you down with a thought. And I’d help him.”

King’s bicolored eyes narrowed, his mouth went grim. But his fists stayed at his side. “Why don’t you?”

“It’s against everything we are. You couldn’t possibly understand. But unless you’re brick stupid you should understand that whatever affection and loyalty you feel for Cian, Hoyt feels it, too. And he’s felt it since the day he was born. Now get out of here. Just go.”

King unbunched his fists, rubbed them on his pants. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“A lot of good that does.”

“I’m going to check on Cian. If I’m not satisfied, I’m going to finish this.”

Ignoring him as he strode out, Glenna turned to try to take some of Hoyt’s weight. “Here now, you need to sit down.”

“Would you get away from me?”

“No, I won’t.”

In response, Hoyt merely lowered to the floor.

Resigned, Glenna went for more cloth, poured water from a pitcher into a bowl. “It looks like I’m going to spend the evening mopping up blood.”

She knelt beside him, dampening cloth, then gently cleaning blood from his face. “I lied. You are stupid, stupid to stand there and let him pound on you. Stupid to feel guilty. And cowardly, too.”

His eyes, bloodied and swollen, shifted to hers. “Have a care.”

“Cowardly,” she repeated, her voice sharp because there were tears welling at the base of her throat. “To stay up here wallowing instead of coming down to help. Instead of coming down to see what shape your brother was in. Which isn’t that much worse than you at this point.”

“I’m not in the mood to have you jab at me with words, or flutter about me.” He waved her hands away.

“Fine. Just fine.” She tossed the cloth back in the bowl so water spewed up and lapped over onto the floor. “Tend to yourself then. I’m tired of every single one of you. Brooding, self-pitying, useless. If you ask me, your Morrigan screwed up royally picking this group.”

“Brooding, self-pitying, useless. You forgot your part of the whole. Shrew.”

She inclined her head. “That’s a weak and old-fashioned term. Today, we just go with bitch.”

“Your world, your word.”

“That’s right. While you’re up here wallowing, you might take just a minute to consider this. We did something amazing here tonight.” She gestured toward the silver crosses on the table. “Something beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. The fact that we did, that we could, should, in some way, bring this ridiculous group together. But instead we’re all whining in our separate corners. So I guess the magic, and the moment, was wasted.”