Bile laps at my throat. Moolek’s men.
“What is going on?”
Silence.
“Where’s Jatin? Is he okay? Are my parents okay?”
The guard whose hand still hesitates on his sword looks to his fellow guard. “They said she wouldn’t be awake for days.”
“Quiet.”
“Is Jatin all right?” I yell, louder.
“Go. Tell him,” the guard orders the younger wizard, who retreats in relief, slamming the door behind him.
“RajaJatin,” the man chastises in a bitter tone.
“What?”
“It’s Raja Jatin to you.”
Is he serious?“Yes, fine. IsRajaJatin okay?”
Nothing. He gives me nothing.
Frustration and fear bubble over. Why is this guard here? I begin casting a diagnosis spell to gather my bearings, but as the red of my magic swarms around me, a purple stream flies through the air. The wicker from my bedpost unravels and lashes out, gripping my right wrist in a binding cord. I yank against it and the wicker tightens. “What is this?”
A lavender haze drifts off the wizard’s hand in warning. “Don’t try anything. I’m not afraid of you.”
“What do you have to be afraid of?” I yell, jerking at the cuff. When he says nothing again, irritation and confusion sharpen into anger. “Answer me! Why?” I yell.
Purple magic blazes. “Because two days ago you and your firelight killed one hundred twenty-nine people.Because,Miss Belwar, you are a danger to us all.”
My people. One hundred twenty-nine of my people are dead. That’s the number I’m going to live with for the rest of my life. My firelight.
But I stopped it. Didn’t I?If Mount Gandhak were still erupting I’d be dead. We’d all be dead. Without a second thought, I break the wicker cuff with a sweep of purple magic. Intense heat flares up my shoulder and into my cheek. It slows me down—but only slightly.
My healed broken leg, now numb and wobbly, buckles under my weight, but I push myself to the window limping. I have tosee.
“Stop!” the guard yells as I reach the window. I chuck a cuff of my own behind me, pinning the guard to the wall. With one heave, and a spasm of retching pain, I throw the curtains open.
And then I do stop, because the world before me is completely gray. Ash covers everything in grime. Beyond the palace gates, timber and roof shingles pebble the ground. Amid the gray, black marks scar dozens of homes. But there are still homes, still wizards going through the wreckage. Flashes of magic light up my city. They’re cleaning up, repairing. And in the distance, Mount Gandhak sits peacefully. No fire or clouds storm from its peak. “I did it. I—”
“So. You are finally awake.”
An icy chill pierces me because I know that voice. Slowly, I turn. And it’s him. Just him. The guards have disappeared. A warm breeze wafts into the room, whipping my hair and brushing his cloak from the floor. The green satin of his clothes gleams in the gray world he has created. Jeweled accents on every cuff and seam reflect the dull light into my eyes, but I don’t dare blink as I take in Maharaja Moolek.
“For a while I didn’t think you would pull through,” he says. “I’m glad to see I was wrong.”
Red flames bristle across my hand and lick up my shoulder. It burns, every ache ricocheting to the bone. I slip one hand behind my back and cast a knife into being, but before I can finish the spell and conjure the weapon, a torture spell snakes through my arm, piercing the swollen flesh through to the broken bone. I crash to my knees, screaming.
“Careful now. I don’t want to undo all my hard work pulling you off that mountain.”
I pant on all fours as the pain subsides, but everything still spins. “You? You saved me?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
Yes, that is hard to believe. Disgust worms through me. When I saw those shoes I knew he had come to kill me or at least gloat as I lay dying. But…If he did carry me off that volcano…
