‘Dead,’ Ingra finishes, raising the crossbow.
No.
My body reacts instinctively. I lunge for her and knock her off balance. The weapon skitters across the gleaming floor, still loaded.
Ingra pushes herself up and shoves me hard in the chest. She isn’t laughing any more.
I careen backwards into the harp, barely registering the pain. She’s just reaching for the crossbow when I grab hold of her ankle and pull. Ingra snarls, kicking her legs and catching me in the stomach. I stagger drunkenly, then spring forward once more, gasping on impact as we collide and roll across the gallery, tearing and scratching at one another.
I barely recognize her – this girl I grew up with. I barely recognize myself. We are two wild things, all nails and teeth, any semblance of friendship ground to ashes underfoot.
With a grunt of triumph, Ingra manages to pin me to the floor. I struggle desperately, my arms clamped beneath her knees.
‘So this is what you want, is it?’ Ingra spits. ‘Toscrewhim and screw us over? You lying, traitorouswhore.’
‘Ingra, please –’
‘What about the others? You would betray your own to save the life of a Castellion?’
‘I’m saving your life, too. Shoot him and you’ll never make it out of here alive.’
‘I don’tcare,’ Ingra half shrieks, slamming me into the floor. I see stars as she leans down close to my ear. ‘I don’t know who you are any more.’
I curl on to my side as the crushing weight lifts. ‘No,’ I choke out.
Among the white spots crowding my vision, I watch her assume her position by the railing, crossbow in hand, tongue between her teeth as she prepares to fire.
I can’t get to her in time. I can’t move.
Terror grips me tightly and I think only of Hal.
‘I love you,’ I whisper.
For a moment there is nothing but the thunderous beating of my heart.
Then, the darkness erupts.
Shadows pour out of me, black as night and utterly impenetrable, enveloping the ballroom in gloom.
I turn rigid with astonishment, watching my magic dance as it takes form, snuffing out the flickering torches, spreading outward. It’s … it’s as if my fear for Hal is enabling me to project my power. This time my shadows aren’t protecting me but allowing me to protecthim.
Over the courtiers’ shrieks I hear Ingra’s sharp gasp – of shock, of dismay, of bitter, burning rage. I see her, my gaze cutting easily through the dark. I drag myself to my feet and kick the crossbow out of her hands. To my horror, this causes it to fire. The bolt shoots upward, then ricochets off the ceiling. I hold my breath, hardly daring to watch as it plummets to the ground. A split second later, there’s a deafening shatter as it hits a ginormous vase of golden roses. I exhale in relief while a chorus of screams pierces the din.
Several orbs of light blink to life, illuminating the ballroom. I can hear Hal calming the crowd, calling for the Ignitia to relight the torches.
Ingra is panting, her hair falling loose from her thick braid. Her hands are clenched into fists as she gapes at the shadows still twining themselves round my wrists.
Suddenly – footsteps. Lots of them, headed our way.
Reflexively, I shrink back into the lingering darkness just as the Imperial Guard burst through the doors to the gallery.
There are half a dozen knights, yet Ingra fights them anyway, kicking and punching until the pommel of a swordhits her squarely in the ribs. I hear the sickening, splintering crack right before she goes limp. As they drag her away, she jerks her head round and stares into the spot where she watched me melt into the darkness, her face twisted with fury and betrayal.
And I know that however much she hates me in this moment, it’s nothing compared to how much I hate myself.
39
Blaze
