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Prince Zixin picks up a sword from the floor, dropped from the earlier skirmish, then moves in front of me.

“What are you doing?” I bite out.

“Keeping you alive so you can honor your promise.” His breathing is uneven; he’s still weakened, even though the bond with the dragon is broken.

As more soldiers close around us, I dart to the candles, flinging the bell-shaped flowers into the flickering candle flame. Their petals catch fire, a shower of sparks scattering, those around us shielding their eyes from the glare. In the chaos, we rush to my sister and Ruilin by the stairs of the dais. Wordlessly, I hand Dian her ring. Her fingers are shaking as she slides it over her finger with a deep sigh, the band gleaming once more.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“No longer like dying.” She manages a half smile, looking at the dragon in my sling. “But I need to recover. My magic… I can’t channel it yet.”

My gut constricts. We need the witch from the tower, the one who turned the warriors to stone—and now there’s just me.

Most of General Xilu’s soldiers have dispersed from the dais, swarming around the hall entrance. As he snaps out orders, Queen Chunlei’s eyes are closed, her fingers twitching as the light in the starfire flares. Fear grips me; she’s trying to channel its magic.

“The dragon did something—I think it unlocked my magic,” I tell Dian urgently. “Teach me what to do?”

She touches the golden root on my ring. “Such power is unfamiliar to me, part of the dragon’s. It will be dangerous for you to wield it.”

“There’s no choice. We have to help those trying to get in.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Magic is unpredictable, perilous if not channeled right. Its inclination is to be unleashed, not caring if the wielder is hurt. First you must find it—the part that feels different, locked away. It may resist your attempts to grasp it, especially at the start. Once it yields… that is where the danger lies. You must keep it tethered always, careful to maintain control. Don’t let it surge out all at once; it will consume you, it will hurt you that way.”

There’s no time for caution. Recalling the warmth from when the dragon touched my ring, I reach for it inside me—clumsy and unwieldy, like unraveling knotted thread. Painstakingly I grasp at it, fumbling to hold on. I don’t know what I’m doing… just that it feels right, my body thrumming in a rhythm, foreign yet familiar. All the while a wildness pulls at me, a temptation to cast restraint aside, to rain destruction upon our enemies.

Loud thuds crash against the doors. The soldiers stiffen, raising their weapons. Queen Chunlei’s brow is puckered in concentration. Something slams against the door again, the wooden panels shuddering but holding fast. I’m sick with dread, breathless from fear. Those who want to help us can’t get in—and if they’re caught, we’ll all end up prisoners in the Palace of Nine Hills.

“I have to do something, Dian.” My voice shakes. “Now. What if the queen channels the starfire’s magic? What if General Xilu’s guards capture those outside?”

Dian’s throat convulses. “Our magic calls to the plants around us, to nature, opening a path for us to summon them. Channel your magic into something you find. A tree, its roots—”

I look around but there are only the chrysanthemums, the floor paved with stone. Dian frowns, as though just realizing this. The tension winds tighter as I reach deeper, the warmth morphing to something else that glows, that sears… that burns.

“Bring the girl,” Queen Chunlei commands from across the hall, sensing something amiss.

As the soldiers hurry toward me, Prince Zixin steps between us, his sword drawn. He’s weakened, he’ll never win—there’s too many of them and we’re almost out of time.

I gasp as the tension inside me snaps abruptly like a kite string cut, a searing heat engulfing me—just as Dian warned. But it’s too late; I can’t stop this. My eyes fly open. Everything is brighter, immersed in sunlight. A sweetness spills into the air like springtime, the flowers in bloom. My body sears, aching for release, as I instinctively raise my hands. Flames erupt, surging toward the entrance. They streak across the wood, scorching it, crawling over the bars—yet the iron shimmers brighter, unscathed. I grasp wildly at the power roiling within, gathering more until my insides feel hollowed through. The fire blazes brighter, devouring the doors, which break apart, disintegrating into fragments.

“Stop her!” Queen Chunlei shouts.

More soldiers race toward me. But I don’t move; they should fear me. The power flows on, raw and fierce and wild—hurtling into the walls and pillars, setting them alight—my eyes, my hands, my body burning up. The soldiers are flung back, crying out as they crash against the floor. Dian sucks in a sharp breath. Prince Zixin stares at me, his eyes wide. Do I look like a monster? I am one, relishing this reckless, ruthless strength, darting along the edge of madness. A heady thing to grasp fate in one’s hands… I don’t ever want to let go.

Someone clasps my arms, shaking me—Dian, her grip weak. “Enough, Sister.” Her voice is strained like she’s on the verge of crying, her despair penetrating my haze. “You’re destroying the hall; you’ll bury us. You’re destroying yourself—”

As smoke billows between us, she flinches like I’m scorching her too. I recoil with horror, extinguishing the power with a wrench. The heat fades, leaving just a cold emptiness within. The hall entrance is torn wide open, part of the wall crumbled away, the iron bars lying on the ground.

My mind is spinning, my body limp with exhaustion, my ring tight as though my fingers are swollen. I press a hand to my chest, my heart beating too quickly like I’ve run miles—and though tired, I’m exhilarated and eager to run more, until my legs give way… or until I can no longer stop.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

T he thud of hooves reverberates, resonating through the earth. Warriors in unfamiliar armor—a seemingly endless stream of them—ride into the hall, galloping over the charred remains of the door. They are clad in black leather, helmets covering their heads. Dark cloth wraps around the lower halves of their faces, leaving just their eyes uncovered. Still, I recognize Captain Hong, one of Jin’s soldiers. They aren’t from Mist Island but Thorn Valley, the promised reinforcements—though disguised to protect the farce of the alliance.

A tall man leads the charge, lean and graceful upon his mount, his sword gleaming as he cuts his way through the Iron Mountains soldiers. His helmet falls slightly lower than the rest, almost concealing his eyes. As his gaze slices the room, it collides with mine—a sliver of golden brown. Jin. For a moment, everything else falls away; he is the only one I see.

Wherever I am, wherever you are—I will come for you.

I thought these were just words, spoken in the moment… and I’ve never been more glad to be wrong. My heart soars as Jin guides his horse toward me, carving a path through the soldiers. His warriors fight with ferocious skill, moving seamlessly with their steeds. Creatures of starlight, Jin called them. Their unearthly beauty is the kind that makes you stop and stare, forgetting the world. Rippling bands of light flash across their luminous bodies. Delicate antlers crown their heads, above eyes of sapphire and pearl, their hooves shining like moonstone. This must be why those of the Iron Mountains believe the attack is from Mist Island.