Sir Thursday by Garth Nix

sentimental attachment to your original world and mortality is a serious weakness, Arthur,” said Dame Primus. She leaned forward as she spoke, and Arthur felt his eyes drawn to her gaze. Her own eyes grew brighter, infused with a golden glow, and though she was not wearing her wings, Arthur could sense them rearing up behind her, increasing her majesty. He felt an almost overpowering urge to bow before her, because she was so beautiful and powerful.
    “The Border Sea must be brought within its bounds and only the Third Key can do it.”
    Arthur tried to force his chin up, resisting the pressure to bow before the Will. It would be so easy to give in, to agree with whatever she wanted. But if he did, that wouldbe the end of a boy named Arthur Penhaligon. He would be something else, no longer human.
    But it would be so easy…Arthur opened his mouth and then shut it again as something sharp pricked his knee. The momentary pain enabled him to break eye contact with Dame Primus and he quickly looked down.
    “Let me think about it,” said Arthur. It cost him an effort to even say that, but it worked. Dame Primus leaned back and the almost-visible aura of her wings diminished, and her face no longer seemed so unbearably beautiful.
    Arthur took a sip of his orange juice and glanced under the table. Suzy was pushing another large needle through the lining of her outer coat, where it nestled with half a dozen others.
    He took a deep breath and continued, “What’s your plan for me after the Border Sea is taken care of?”
    “Sir Thursday holds the Fourth Key,” said Dame Primus. “As he commands the Glorious Army of the Architect and is a very powerful, volatile, and excessively violent Denizen, it would not be wise to confront him directly. Instead, we think it best if we employ agents to discover where Part Four of the Will has been imprisoned by Sir Thursday. Once we have found and released Part Four, then we can consider our next move. In the meantime,because of the danger from assassins, it would be best if you go to Port Wednesday under guard and work to contain the Border Sea with the Third Key.”
    “Right…” said Arthur. He frowned and sipped his orange juice as he tried to figure out what he should do. The only thing he knew for sure was that if he wanted any chance of ever getting back to being normal, he had to avoid using the Keys. Obviously the Third Key needed to be used right now to get the Border Sea back under control. But Dame Primus could do that.
    And I’ll just hide out here, thought Arthur bitterly. He felt powerless and trapped, but at the same time, he could not think of anything else he could do.
    “If I use the Third Key that much, then I will turn into a Denizen, full stop,” Arthur said finally. “But I realize that the Border Sea must be contained. So I will give you the Third Key.”
    “Good,” said Dame Primus. She smiled and tapped her agenda a few times with satisfaction, then suddenly stopped as if struck by a sudden recollection. “However, you are the Rightful Heir. You should not remain a weak mortal. It probably would be best for you to keep and use all three Keys and become a Denizen as quickly as possible.”
    Arthur was irritated now. “I’ve told you tons of times—I know I can’t go home now, but at least there’s achance…a small chance that one day, if I don’t become a Denizen…oh, forget it!”
    Arthur sat back down and slapped the table angrily, spoiling the effect by choking slightly on his own spit as he did so. To clear his throat, he picked up his orange juice and drank it down—until something hard rolled out of the cup and into his mouth, almost choking him for real.
    Arthur spat out whatever it was onto the table. The object rang like a bell as it hit the metal surface, rolled in ever-decreasing circles, and quivered to a stop. It was a silver coin, about twice the diameter of a quarter.
    “What the—” said Arthur. “There was a coin in my