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Their magic has created a pelting rain and rising river. They attack from all angles, fierce and relentless, but my flames burn bright and my heart even brighter.

We all refuse to surrender.

Sterling taught me well. I may be new to this way of channeling power, but the method feels natural. The sand beneath my feet transforms to glass, which will soon become too slick if I’m not careful.

The very air begins to waver.

Their magic slams into the solid mass of my own, and Rafe yells for them to take another angle.

I’m more than ready as my fire expands.

Without warning, the ground buckles under my feet. The glass shatters. A hole forms, and for a hot second, I’m falling.

But not for long.

With a snap, my wings extend. The air buffets them, threatening to send me spiraling until I balance the surrounding heat to stop the air current.

As soon as I conquer that challenge, a sheet of solid soil races toward me.

I melt the ice, only to find a wall of hard-packed earth still barreling my way. My heart stops, then beats triple-time.

I succumb to a moment of panic before regaining control. Forget the magic…I’ll stop the wielder instead.

I fly upward to gain a better view while the earth elemental pursues me.

There! I spy a strange lump in the land a good distance away from the water users and the beach.

With a sharp flex of my mind, smoke pours out of that hump in the ground. A woman quickly follows, slapping at her clothes as she rolls in the dirt.

There’s more than one way to win a battle.

I get a few moments to bask in my success before another assault forces me back to work.

Chapter Forty-Six

The late afternoon sun slants through the windows of my private sitting room as I stiffly pace the length of the chamber, my muscles still sore from dealing with that dust storm Rafe set on me.

Our core group plotted treason against the heavens, and now we’re recruiting outsiders. Necessary outsiders. The kind who can spread our message far and wide. But we need to proceed with caution. If word of our mission reaches the wrong ears, a single misplaced prayer could rain divine retribution down upon us all.

And I refuse to trust someone before I even meet them.

Sterling watches from his position by the window. His handsome face reveals nothing, especially to those who lack the experience to read his expressions. I catch the slight tension at the edges of his mouth, though, and the way he tracks my every movement.

“Helene has sound judgment. If she says this minstrel can help us, I believe her.”

“I’m not questioning Helene’s judgment.” Not about this, at least. I stop to fiddle with the fruit arrangement on the sideboard, and sparks zip between my fingers. I must be too fired up from the training today because these little magical eruptions keep happening. “I’m questioning whether we can trust anyone outside this room with what we know.”

Bastian glances up from the ancient texts spread across the table. “We can’t do this alone, Lark. If we expect to turn people away from the gods, we need voices they already believe.”

“And this Barnaby has the people’s ear.” Agnar leans against the wall with deceptive casualness, his clothes still damp from his morning sparring session with Sterling. “More importantly, he has no love for nobles or authority. Our opponents are the ultimate authority. He’ll hate them on principle.”

I send a wave of heat in his direction, drying and warming him. I’m about to respond when a sharp knock cuts through the room.

We all freeze.

“Enter.” I straighten my posture into something more regal. Queen Lark now, not just Lark the scared shitless, desperate woman plotting against the gods.

Our combined stress eases when Helene sweeps in, her thick navy dress perfectly pressed and immaculate as usual. Her lips form that same perpetually crooked line of disinterest.