“I’ve improved security at the brewery,” Val explained. Liam didn’t need to know that meant she’d placed wards and amulets around it. “It’s still frustrating, though. Blair and Yuka don’t deserve this. They’re just trying to run a small business and make a good life in this city.”

“I’m with you. It’s absurd.” Liam frowned. “There has to be a paper trail. BrewCorp must be paying the gang to take out the Anvil Brewery.”

“Yeah, but without actionable evidence, the cops can’t get access to BrewCorp’s records.” Val jabbed the gas pedal with unnecessary force as she completed a turn. “They need proof before they can get proof. How screwed up is that?”

“Privacy rights matter,” Liam reminded her, “but in this case, I wish someone would hack the records at BrewCorp.”

Val tilted her head, considering his words. “Even if those records would be inadmissible in court, it’d give the cops probable cause for their warrants.”

Liam nodded.

Val turned into a parking garage near the tall building that housed Liam’s counselor. “You’re good at computers, right?”

Liam’s head snapped up. “Oh, no. Don’t look at me, Valerie Stonehold.”

Val braked in a parking spot. “C’mon, Lee. Who else do I know who could help us with this?”

“Assuming I had that kind of skill—” Liam began.

“You use computers for work. I’ve seen you do some fancy stuff with them,” Val interrupted. “I don’t have to assume. I know.”

“Thank you for acknowledging that, but flattery won’t work.” Liam folded his arms. “I’m not hacking BrewCorp. It’s illegal.”

Val reclined her seat. “You’re too smart to get caught.”

Liam eyed her. “It’s the principle that matters.”

Val pulled her phone out. “Is it?”

Silence hung in Genevieve for a few long seconds.

“Okay, fine,” Liam grumbled. “I owe you one, first of all, but most importantly, you’re right. BrewCorp is in the wrong, and they’re ruining Blair’s and Yuka’s lives. If there’s something I can do to get justice for them, I’ll do it.”

Val grinned. “Cool. Don’t tell your counselor that. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “You’re trouble, Val. Do you know that?”

“Proud of it,” Val yelled after him as he strode across the deck.

She kicked back to scroll through her phone, grinning.

Obsidian sparkled in the palm of Val’s hand. She tilted it left and right, allowing the forge fire to catch the facets of the expertly cut stones. The gems were not ordinary obsidian. Most came from the volcanic fields of the Deep, where lava swirled and froze at the whim of the giant crocodilian dragons who swam in the molten rock.

Val flicked through her memories to call up what she knew about this semi-precious stone. Like many magic crystals, it had unremarkable physical properties. It was simply lava that had cooled fast. Its medium hardness and translucence were not unique.

However, Its power when it came to magic was breathtaking.

Val removed a gemstone from her palm and held it to the light. The lava dragons made much of the most precious obsidian in Avalon, yet this was even more precious. The largest stone she had was so rare that it was priceless. Holding it made her heart thunder.

No lava dragon had formed this stone. It had been cut from the eggshell of a hatched dragonet. The shell had split on a moonlit night at Tintagel Castle when Queen Julia received the spirit of Luna. The dragon who sprang from its fragments was Lady Eglantine, the ruler of all dragons and the Great Lady of the Deep.

She was also best friends with the queen, which explained how Her Majesty had laid her hands on this obsidian. Usually, even the wealthiest and most powerful fae would have difficulty finding anything like it.

“Dad will have a coronary when I tell him about this,” Val whispered.

She was tempted to take a photo, but it seemed irreverent. She gently secured the thumbnail-sized stone in a small vice. Her amulet throbbed, responding to its power, as she drew her dagger and laid it on the workbench behind the vice.

“This stuff is legendary, huh?” Val muttered. “Let’s see if it works.”

She extended a hand toward her dagger with the gemstone between her and the blade. Her amulet scorched her skin, and magic tingled in her fingers—and she felt nothing. She couldn’t detect the movement of the iron particles in the Damascus steel.

Val gritted her teeth and tried to summon the dagger, but it lay motionless on the workbench, oblivious to her presence.

“Cool,” she murmured. “That works.”

She turned to the pendant lying on the workbench. It couldn’t be too big, or it would weigh the tiny princess down, so Val had made it the size of a dollar coin. Its sturdy iron chain had a baby-proof clasp and would be too tight to pull over her head, but she’d added a safety catch that would snap if the little nugget accidentally choked herself.

She’d drilled the settings for the gemstones, and Val hummed as she set the obsidian. The dragon eggshell stone went in the middle. One by one, Val set the smaller stones around the outside, leaving the alternate holes open for other crystals. She used a tiny blunted burnisher to squeeze the stones flush inside their settings to baby-proof the amulet.

“Toddlers, man,” Val muttered.

She reached for another velvet pouch filled with crystals and shook them onto her palm with great gentleness. These were among the most fragile she’d worked with. Salt was hardly a precious stone, but the Gem Dwarf jewelry company she used had done an excellent job of polishing these pink Himalayan salt crystals into acceptable shapes and hardness.

“Salt for dark magic,” she reminded herself. The queen wanted this amulet to protect others from Lillirelda, but Val figured that adding a mild shield against evil magic couldn't hurt. Besides, the pink crystals were pretty.

Placing the salt crystals in their settings was delicate work. Val wiped the sweat from her brow when the last one was in place. When she picked the amulet up by its chain and raised it, it swung gently, allowing the forge’s yellow glow to sparkle on the many facets and slide across the polished iron. Carvings of the moon's phases surrounded the central obsidian jewel, and black and pink stones alternated around the outside.

“Pretty for a princess,” Val murmured, “but does it work?”

There was a soft thud from the dog bed at her feet. She looked down at the dog, curled contentedly in his basket under the workbench.

“Not gonna lie. It’s nice having company in the forge,” she told him. “Usually, I talk to myself. It’s almost worth lugging your heavy ass down the stairs.” He’d stood in the door, whining, until she gave in and carried him down to the smithy.

The dog wagged his tail harder.

“Okay, dude. Let’s see if it works.” Val pushed her chair back and rose, then cupped the amulet in both hands, bowed her head, and held it up.

The amulet thrummed in response to her rising magic. Its pulse fluttered like a heartbeat, then sped up. Heat surged on her skin and seeped into her veins.

Keeping the amulet’s back facing her, Val reached for the iron within. Obsidian caused blind spots in the amulet. She frowned, concentrating as she sought to imbue the iron with the ward Lillirelda needed.

Magic crackled in her veins like electricity, yet it felt trapped at her fingertips.

“Shit, dude,” Val muttered, eyes still closed. “This is harder than I thought.”

The dog whined.