Though my voice shakes, I force myself to believe it. I’ve done it before. I can do it again. For my people, for my future, for our freedom, forEvermore, I will fight. And I won’t hold back. This isn’t a fable of heroes and villains. This is war—the wretched in-between.
Sandria searches my expression and finally nods in approval. “Good. Now get your things.”
I retrieve the satchel I arrived with, then glance around the chamber for Dante, find him snoozing on the bed, and scoop him into my arms. For once, he holds still as I hug him close to my chest, breathing in the smell of his fur.
“That’s it?”
I nod. “It’s all I need.”
“If you run, will the fox follow?”
“Yes.” I hope.
Sandria looks like she wants to argue but ultimately shrugs. “Just one more thing.”She rummages in her skirts and, to my astonishment, withdraws Elowyn’s crown. “You’re going to need this.”
I blink down at it, overflowing with questions. The only one I can manage is “How?”
Sandria smirks. “I have my methods.”
I gape as I take it. Stealing the crown off the king’s head was an impulse, and I am not sure why Sandria went through the trouble of stealing it again for me. But as I’ve learned, every move she makes has a purpose. If she wants me to take it with me, then it must be important.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Why are you helping me?”
She answers without hesitation. “For Ursandor.” Then Sandria gives me another one of her blistering once-overs. “I hope you’re all they think you are. Because if you live to make me regret this, I will kill you myself. Is that understood?”
I nod numbly. I’m about to ask her the plan when Sandria wheels around.
“Get behind me,” she orders.
I step back, confused, as the princess of Ursandor sinks into a fighting stance with her hands outstretched. Her palms aim for the door.
I know that stance. Because I’ve used it. But I still almost can’t believe what I’m seeing when flames explode from her hands.
The raw force of her magic nearly knocks me to the ground. These violet flames are hotter than any natural fire—this is wildfyre, magic flames. Is Sandria a half-Elf, an Elf with docked ears, or a Talented human?
My jaw drops.
I do not have time to fully comprehend what I’ve just witnessed—and how it potentially shatters everything I thought I knew about Talents—before Sandria’s head snaps back toward me, and she bellows, “GO!”
I obey, leaping through the open door and past the guards, who have been knocked off their feet.
As I hightail it down the stairs, I hear Sandria screaming.
“HELP! HEEEEELLLLP!She attacked me, she’s getting away!”
And as I sprint from the tower, with my heart swelling with affection toward the princess of Ursandor, I vow that she will not regret her faith in me.
dash as far as the central staircase before I hear oncoming steps.
As I turn into the hallway, still gripping Dante against my chest, I encounter eight VIA soldiers with swords drawn.
My vow to Sandria rings through me. This time, the monster in my chest does not hesitate.
I extend a hand, palm open, and the air fills with the sound of sixteen snapping femurs.
Groans erupt as the soldiers crumple. The impulse only took a fraction of my power. My magic surges, blazing hot, ready to meet whatever lies before me. I dash ahead, vaulting over the injured VIA.
I tear toward the hospital. I’m approaching a corner when I crash into someone also racing at top speed, and we both topple to the ground. Dante scrambles out of my arms on my way down, yelping. I stagger upright, whirling to meet the enemy, and stop dead in my tracks when I realize it’s Cygnus.
