“Go,” she commanded.
The stag reared up onto its front legs and then shattered the glass wall. In one smooth leap, it jumped over the heads of the frozen members of the Order of Babel. Ahead of her, Zofia could see the line of animals had converged into a knot at the entrance to the hall that housed the ice grotto. The Forged heat net flickered dimly. Soon, it would die. At the mouth of the hall, she watched as Séverin flung out his hand, his other hand pushing Enrique behind him.
The animals poised to strike.
Zofia urged the stag faster, her hand moving once more to her neck. Frustration gathered inside her. She needed a weapon, something that would push back the creatures. She cast about and saw an ornamental sword lying across the lap of a frozen member of the Italian faction. The stag halted to a stop in front of him, and she reached down, plucking the sword.
“Thank you,” she said.
She gripped the blade, finding the pulse of its metal that sang to her Forging affinity and then pressed it against the ice stag’s flaming heart. Fire erupted across the sword.
“Faster,” she whispered.
The stag galloped down the line of ice creatures, then skidded to a halt at the front of the Forging net. The net itself was made of metal, and when she reached out… letting her fingers skim across it, the thread felt cold to the touch. It needed fire. She looked behind her to make sure that Séverin and Enrique were safe. Séverin held a mirrorshard in his hand and stared at her. Enrique yelped, hiding his face behind his arm. He poked his head up, his arm falling to his side. His jaw dropped, and he looked from her face to the flaming sword.
“Zofia?”
Indignation. Amazement. Confusion. It could be any of those emotions, thought Zofia, so she settled on the only reply that made sense to her: “Hello.”
Then she turned back to the line of ice creatures. She brandished the fire sword. A handful of the creatures skittered back.
“Séverin and Enrique, get behind the net,” she said.
She heard them step backward, and then she brought the tip of her sword to the net. Heat bloomed across it once more, and the ice creatures stepped backwards, hissing and growling. Zofia dropped the sword, then dismounted from her stag. It swung its head to her. Zofia patted its hindquarters once, and it took off down the atrium, far away from the fire net.
When she turned around, Séverin and Enrique were still staring at her.
“You rescued us,” said Enrique, heaving. He smiled weakly. “This almost feels like a fairy tale, and I’m the damsel in distress.”
“You’re not a damsel.”
“I am in distress, though.”
“But—”
“Let me have this, Zofia,” said Enrique wearily.
“Zofia…” started Séverin, and then he stopped.
If anyone appeared distressed, it was Séverin. He fell silent, his brows pressing together as he pointed to the ice grotto.
“I’m glad you’re safe, but we’re still missing Laila and Hypnos,” he said, looking up at her. “Enrique said you’d gone to the leviathan. What happened?”
Zofia stared down the hall, unease creeping through her.
“I was attacked inside it.”
“Did you see your attacker’s face?”
She shook her head.
“What weapons do we have?”
Zofia touched her bare throat.Nothing.Séverin saw the movement and nodded. He looked to Enrique and then glanced down at the emptied arsenal of his belt.
“Stay behind me, and we’ll go together,” he said.
Zofia had hardly taken a step when she heard a low sigh from the end of the ice grotto. It was a sigh of reluctance, the sound she used to make when Laila would tell her to wash her hands before eating dinner or help tidy up the kitchens. But that sigh did not match the figure who stepped out of the shadows. A man wearing a golden bee mask… his hands steepled in thought, one hand pale and the other… the othergold.
