“Don’t dismount!” Iona shouted, anticipating. “She’s terrified. She’ll bolt, and it might get to her. You have to hold her, Boyle.”
“Take her reins, talk her down, and get them safe. I’ll hold it off.”
“Separating us makes us easier prey.” It’s what it wanted, hoped for—she couldfeelit. “Trust me, please. Please.”
And struggling to focus, she murmured, her voice quiet, steady, an incantation she learned from the books. One still untried.
The wolf lunged at the line of fire, looking for an opening. With its fierce charge the flames dimmed, lowered.
Gripping the reins in one hand, Iona lifted the other high.
“From north and south, from east and west, bring on the wind for this contest. Strike up the power, bring on the fire until the tower whirls higher and higher. Blow strong, blow fierce, blow wild and free. As I will, so mote it be.
“You think I don’t have it,” she said between her teeth. “You’re wrong.”
Above, the sky churned, and with her lifted hand she balled a fist, as if pulling the flame-edged whirlwind that formed into her fingers.
She flung out her arm, sent a raging funnel of wind through the fire.
It lifted the wolf off its feet, threw it up as it screamed in rage. And she hoped, in fear. It spun, claws lashing air as it bore him up and away.
Iona fought to control what she’d conjured, felt it building beyond her. A tree snapped, collapsed into jagged splinters.
“Take it down.” Boyle’s voice came steady in her ear. “It’s more than you need, and too much. Take it down again now, Iona, as only you can. Let it calm. Let it go.”
A line of sweat beaded down her back as she fought to do just that. The roar of the wind began to fade, the impossible swirl of it to slow.
“All the way down now, Iona.”
“I’m trying. It’s so strong.”
“It’s you who made it. It’s you who’s strong.”
She’d made it, she thought. She’d control it. She’d end it.
“Still now,” she said. “And soft. Calm and sweet. Disperse.”
The wolf dropped like a stone in the light breeze. Then sprang up, fangs dripping. Did the red jewel seem dimmer? she wondered.
Then it leapt into the woods, pulsing out a curtain of smoky fog. After one distant howl, silence fell again.
“It could come back.” All calm deserted her as her hands shook, as her voice jumped. “It could come back. We need to get the horses in. I need to make sure the stables are safe. It—”
“That’s what we’ll do. Breathe a minute. You’ve gone dead pale.”
“I’m all right.” Under her Alastar pawed the ground. He’d pursue, she realized—longed to. To calm him, she had to calm herself. “We’ve done enough,” she said softly. “It’s enough for now. I need to tell Branna, Connor. But the horses—”
“We’re going now, easy.”
“Easy.” She took those breaths, then laid her hand on Alastar’s neck, and over on Darling’s. “Easy,” she repeated. “It won’t hurt you. I... didn’t know you had a knife. A really big knife.”
“A pity I didn’t get to use it.” Those gilded eyes hard, he sheathed the blade again. “But worth it for the show I suppose. And you need more lessons on this business.”
“Absolutely. That one wasn’t even on the lesson plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“I read it in a book. I guess you could say I added a bar to the jump. It seemed like the time.”
