“Leave it.” Katell stepped closer to the barrier. “We don’t need him. Pinaria, try using your magic. See if you can open an archway.”
Pinaria swallowed, then lifted her hands. Silvery-purple light swelled in her palms, blooming into the shape of a shield. With a steadying breath, she pressed forward.
The barrier rippled under her touch, warping like glass over flame. Muscles straining, she stepped deeper. One step. Two. Then more. Her magic split the shimmering wall, not violently but with graceful force, like a river parting around stone.
Katell’s lips curved. Was this it?
But the light faltered.
Pinaria gasped. Her magic snapped out like a flame in the wind. She staggered back with a choked cry, knees buckling.
Arnza lunged, catching her as the barrier sealed shut behind her with a low, unsettling sigh.
“It won’t work,” Pinaria said, breathless. “I can make it halfway, maybe—but not the whole distance. It’s too strong.”
Katell’s fists clenched. There had to be a way.
Arnza approached, golden shield shimmering into view, its curved edge gleaming like a promise.
“Maybe this will help. It was made by one of the Twelve.”
Katell blinked. “Really?”
She’d known his shield was Achaean by its circular shape, but had never thought much beyond that.
“No, absolutely not!” Pinaria snapped, looking between them. “You heard what Tarchun and Ennius said. The barrier burns whoever tries to pass through. You can’t just dive in and hope for the best.”
Arnza shrugged. “Nestur was a Gifted Achaean hero. His shield is legendary for a reason. It might buy her the distance she needs.”
Katell stared at the shield, its gleam bright against the barrier’s pale shimmer.
Part of her knew it was reckless.
But the other part—the one that had survived slavers, the arena, Samnites, and the Westerners—refused to back down. She was Laran’s Chosen. She had the Tears. If anyone could make it through, it was her.
“All right,” she said, decision made. She peeled off her helmet and tossed aside. “Let’s try again.”
The morning breeze caught loose strands of her hair. She unclasped her cloak, letting it fall. Her fire-resistant breastplate would have to be enough.
Pinaria’s face tightened. “Did you not hear me? Ican’tcover you the whole way. Once my magic fades, you’ll burn.”
Katell slid her arm through the shield’s straps. “Hold it as long as you can. My healing will take care of the?—”
“You’re notinvincible!” Pinaria’s voice cracked like a whip across the field, louder than Katell had ever heard.
Arnza’s eyes widened. Pinaria rarely raised her voice.
But this time, it wasn’t anger.
It was fear—for her.
Katell’s chest swelled. She hadn’t asked for this loyalty, but it was there, fierce and unyielding. The kind of bond she hadn’t dared hope for since she’d lost Sinope.
She pulled Pinaria into a tight embrace, the shield pressing awkwardly between them.
“I know,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry. But I have to try. Dalmatius is counting on me. I can’t fail him again.”
When she pulled back, she brushed her thumb over the furrow in Pinaria’s brow, as if she could smooth out every worry.
