I have no idea who we just trampled. Bile rises in my throat. I choke it down.
The arena isn’t far from Widow’s Hall, but the distance feels longer in the dark.
The greyhorns screech and stop. Just ahead is a cluster of soldiers. There are at least six—a blend of Petruvians and Virdeians—fighting. They swing weapons and shout, and I can’t tell which side is winning.
A head twists toward us. A soldier in indigo charges in our direction.
The greyhorns are skittish. I pull at the reins, but they don’t move.
Panic curdles my insides. I touch my skin to my tshira trinket, gathering magic. I kick at the sides of one of the oxen, and he jerks to the right.
The others follow suit.
We glide away, moving around the mass of soldiers.
I almost allow myself to be relieved. Until someone snatches my arm.
I scream.
“Mira!” Kaidren shouts my name.
The soldier who charged away from the battle has grabbed hold of my arm. He tugs, trying to rip me from the sledge.
I release a shriek as I slip from the bench.
I hear Kaidren on the sledge behind me, scrambling to get to me.
He’s too late.
The greyhorns have slowed, and the Petruvian has me half pulled off the sledge. I dangle over the edge of the bench; onehand grips the reins as hard as I can, the other is being pulled by the stubborn Petruvian soldier alongside us.
I struggle to break free, but I’m stuck.
Kaidren appears on the edge of my periphery. He snatches my arm, trying to pull me back onto the bench. I feel as if I’m being ripped in half.
“Throw tshira at him!” I shout, voice strangled.
Kaidren hesitates. I see the indecision in his eyes. He’ll have to let me go. I don’t think I’m strong enough to stay upright on my own, but I don’t see another option.
With a pained nod, Kaidren releases me.
My grip on the reins slips. For a terrible moment, I’m falling.
My fingers scrabble for anything to latch on to. They find purchase along the wooden bench. Splintered wood digs into my palms as I hold on as tight as I can. My arms strain.
I don’t see the tshira flying through the air. Only hear as the Petruvian trying to yank me to my death sputters as he’s hit with a face full of powdered tshira.
I shove every bit of magic in my chest toward him with a scream.
Flames ignite in front of me.
The soldier cries out, releasing me.
He falls into the snow.
I’m still fumbling, trying to get back onto the sledge.
Strong hands encase my waist, tugging me up until I’m resting on the sledge’s bench, out of breath and slumped into Kaidren’s side.
