The cold wind whipped off the ocean, pulling and tossing the hair of the siblings standing on the beach. The roar of the waves and the whistling of that wind were the only sounds that came. Neither Ian nor Ilona spoke, studying the other and waiting for judgement.
"I would appreciate you not telling the others about this," Ian said at last, dropping his gaze to the stoney beach. "Isaac knows... but none of the others. I would like to keep it that way."
"Of course," Ilona agreed, without hesitation, "but Ian, could you... could you explain the mark on your stomach? The magic? What were you talking about..."
