“So two weeks,” Ryan said, his eyes moving over the whiteboard. “That seems . . . doable.”

And then he took a deep breath and rose to his feet. “I can keep an eye on things here for two weeks, I think.”

Bee looked up, blinking. “What?”

Ryan huffed out a breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not coming with you.”

“What do you mean?” Bee asked, standing up. “Ry, we need you.”

I used to call Ryan “Ry,” too, and it sounded strange hearing it from Bee’s mouth. Once again, I was reminded that this was from kind of a weird situation we’d all found ourselves in, even if you took the magic stuff out of it. And right now, I almost felt like I was intruding on something I wasn’t supposed to be part of, which was stupid, of course. This was totally something that involved me. And yet, I found myself stepping closer to my desk, fiddling with the big calendar.

I was staring hard at July 31 as Ryan said, “You need a Mage, and you’ll have one with you.”

“A crazy one,” Bee countered, and I had to admit she had a point there.

“Someone has to stay here,” Ryan said, and when I looked up, he had his arms folded over his chest, palms cupped around his elbows. He’d lifted his chin just enough to let me know that this was one of those hills he was going to die on. He and David could go toe-to-toe in the Most Stubborn Guy I Know competition. “David made one Paladin, but he could make more. That one is gone, but who’s to say another one won’t come after Harper? And if she’s not here? What happens then?”

I had to admit it wasn’t something I’d thought about, and I was suddenly grateful for Ryan and really liked having him on my team. It was a nice thing to know, actually, that you could break up with someone and maybe like them more.

“Bee,” I said, hoping I came across as gentle and not condescending, “that makes a lot of sense. I’d feel better if Ryan were with us, too, don’t get me wrong, but . . . someone has to keep an eye on things here, and we need Blythe to come with us.”

I was a little afraid that Bee might offer to stay with Ryan in that case, and the idea of being trapped alone in a car with Blythe for two weeks kind of made me want to die. But thank God, Bee proved, once again, that she was the best friend a girl could have.

“Ugh!” With both hands, she shoved her hair back from her face, and even though she was clearly frustrated, it was equally clear that she was coming with me. She looked at Ryan and reached out, lightly punching his arm. “Fine. Be right.”

With a grin, he slung an arm around her neck and pulled her in so that he could kiss the top of her head.

“Another girl who says I’m right like it’s killing her,” Ryan said with a lopsided grin. “What is my problem?”

“You have excellent taste as far as I can tell,” I told him briskly as I re-capped my marker. “But while you staying here is probably a good idea, I’d be lying if I said I was completely down with it.”

“Because you’ll miss my face?” Ryan teased, and I acted like I was going to throw my marker at him, making him laugh and jokingly duck.

“No, because we’ll miss your magic,” I replied.

“That’s a good point,” Bee said, chewing on her lower lip. “Blythe has some, sure, but it’s not like we can trust that.”

Ryan scrubbed one hand up and down the back of his neck, nodding. “Yeah, that’s the only thing. I almost wish . . .” He sighed, dropping his hand. “It’s stupid.”

“Stupider than going off on a road trip with a girl who tried to kill me?” I asked, drumming the marker on my desk, and Ryan huffed out a laugh.

“Fair point. Okay, what I was going to say is that I wish there were some way to put a ward on the two of you. A . . . a protection mark or something.”

Bee had sat back down on my bed, one leg folded beneath her. “Can you do that?” she asked. “Ward a person?”

“A magical tattoo,” I mused, and Bee’s head whipped toward me, eyes wide.

“Whoa, you mean like a permanent ward?”

Ryan shrugged. “Don’t see why not. At least there’s nothing I’ve ever seen saying you can’t.”

I didn’t exactly relish the idea of getting a tattoo, trust me. It was right up there with blue hair.

“Do it,” I said, holding my arm out to Ryan, whose auburn eyebrows had disappeared under his shaggy hair.

“For serious?”

Taking a deep breath, I looked at the unmarked, pale skin of my inner wrist. My parents were going to lose their minds over this, but if Ryan couldn’t come with us, it made sense to at least bring the best part of him, aka his magic. Okay, maybe not the best part of him—that wasn’t exactly fair. But the most useful part for sure.

Ryan paused for a moment, then turned to get one of the Sharpies from my desk.

“You sure about the arm?” he asked. “Might make sense to get it somewhere harder to see.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God, I am not getting a tramp stamp. I would literally rather die.”

Ryan snorted softly at that and then tapped the end of the Sharpie against the back of my hip. “Here, then. Not right in the middle, still easy to hide with clothes.”

Downstairs, I could hear my parents watching TV, the distant sound of a tennis match drifting up to my room. Next to me, sitting on the edge of the bed, Bee was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

“All for one, one for all?” I suggested, and after a moment, she nodded.

“Might as well.”

Ryan drew the looping mark on my back, a series of whorls and twists that didn’t mean anything to me. But while I might not have been able to recognize what he was drawing, I could feel the power coming off the mark. If it felt like this when it was drawn in bright pink marker, how would I feel when it was permanently tattooed on my skin?

“This is for protection against Blythe,” he said as he drew and I tried not to feel embarrassed, “and I’ll give you my rose balm. For when you need to be . . . persuasive.”

“We’ll get these in white ink,” Bee suggested as Ryan moved on to draw the mark on her hip. “The power would still be the same even if it doesn’t show too much, right?”

Ryan nodded, his wavy hair falling in his eyes a bit. It was cute, and I could tell Bee thought so, too. It was there in the little smile that spread across her face, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners. Once Bee’s mark was done, Ryan sat back, my desk chair creaking slightly under his weight, and the three of us looked at one another.

Smacking both palms flat on my thighs, I stood up with all the forced cheer I could manage. “Well, shall we hit the tattoo parlor, y’all?”

• • •

Just over an hour later, Bee and I left the Ink Pot with white bandages on our backs and little foil packets of ointment clutched in our hands. Underneath the bandage, the wards Ryan had made throbbed under my skin, both from the pain of the needle— seriously, that was going to be the last tattoo this gal ever got, ouch—and from the magic in the mark. If I’d had any doubts about this idea working, I was over them now. No matter what else, Bee and I were definitely warded, both from anything that might hurt us and from Blythe’s magic, just to be on the safe side. Still, I couldn’t escape the feeling that this was a little bit like putting a Band-Aid over a bullet hole. If more Paladins came after me, and if my powers stayed . . . blinky, I wasn’t sure just how well a tattoo was going to protect me.