Vaasa tried to push it all away, but the more she denied her anger, the stronger it became. It crested. Her muscles tightened, and she let out a pained gasp, arms dropping so she could double over. The wall disintegrated into smoke and spread out from where she stood, hovering above the floor like fog on the water, crawling up the ocean-facing wall of the greenhouse and clouding it momentarily with black.
She took a sharp breath.
“Enough for today,” Ozik said, disappointment apparent in his voice. He dismissed her magic in the room, absorbing it with ease back into his outstretched palm. She slumped, staring out at the churning sea, grateful this part of the greenhouse looked over the water and was positioned so that no one else could see inside.
A knock at the door drew her attention.
She turned to see Roman step in, and then her heart leapt into her throat.
Amalie.
“Your recent efforts are noted,” Ozik drawled as he walked to the door. “Today not withstanding.”
Vaasa could barely move, her eyes greedily drinking in the sight of her friend. No longer chained, her olive skin was unmarred, her brown hair clean, her body seemingly well fed. Roman softly let Amalie go, though iron still glinted at her wrists. There were two bracelets there, one on each wrist, though her hands were no longer bound. They must stifle magic, just like the chains, just like the rope Dominik had tied Vaasa up with. They had to, otherwise Amalie would have struck.
Vaasa stepped forward, but Amalie locked eyes with Ozik.
Ozik moved perceptibly slower.
Suddenly, rage leaked through the room like a scent in the air, deep and strong. There was a twisting to Amalie’s face that Vaasa again didn’t recognize. That softness, the ease and grace with which Amalie had always held herself, was absent. It was beyond a sense of resentment for a captor; what wound between Ozik and Amalie felt… older. Ancient, even.
“Come now, Roman,” Ozik instructed, sidestepping Amalie to reach the door. She turned, watching him with unblinking eyes. “Let the women have their privacy.”
“Sire—” Roman started.
“I said now,” Ozik repeated.
Roman held Vaasa with his gaze, unflinching. True concern marred it. “I’ll be just outside the door.”
“Do you believe I would harm her?” Amalie spoke.
Vaasa’s knees threatened to buckle. Amalie’s voice was the same as she remembered it, no longer hoarse. Everything about her seemed… comfortable.
Roman didn’t bother to answer the question. Instead, he slipped out the door and shut it.
Amalie looked at Vaasa with a small grin. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“Amalie,” Vaasa whispered.
Amalie ran. Vaasa leapt forward and threw herself at her friend, the two colliding in an embrace that immediately brought tears to Vaasa’s eyes. She pulled Amalie as closely as she could. “Tell me you’re okay,” she begged. “Tell me they haven’t hurt you.”
“They haven’t hurt me,” she assured. “Every other day or so, that guard or Ozik comes to ensure I’m fed, bathed, and given fresh clothing.”
“They do?” Vaasa asked.
Amalie pulled back and met Vaasa’s gaze. “They do.”
Ozik was caring for Amalie? And Roman was helping? Relief and anger intertwined in Vaasa’s body; on the one hand, it meant Amalie was cared for. On the other, it meant Roman had far more access to Amalie than he’d let on. Why hadn’t he mentioned this?
Vaasa ran a finger over the iron bracelet, but since Ozik had taken her magic, she felt nothing, unlike in the prison beneath Lord Vlacik’s knife. “They’re in the city,” Vaasa whispered, taking Amalie’s arm and leading her deeper into the greenhouse. “Reid, Koen, and Melisina. I found them.”
Amalie’s brows rose.
“We’re going to break you out,” Vaasa said.
Amalie pursed her lips. Ever so quietly, she said, “I know.”
What? Vaasa’s brows slammed together. “What do you mean?”
