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My anger flares, and her eyes narrow slightly at the movement.

“Breathe,” she says.

“You’re bossy for someone in a prison circle.”

“You’re glowing for someone pretending to be calm.”

I hate that she’s right.

She gestures toward the ward line near the north curve of the circle. “Don’t step across yet. Motion hook at the outer rim. It wants your spine.”

“Charming.”

“Decorative inefficiency near the north edge,” she continues, nodding toward a flaw in the silver line. “Drain that point first, then cross where the lattice thins.”

I kneel beside the flaw and press two fingers against the weakened section. The ward snaps toward me instantly, eager to punish contact, but I catch the pulse at the start of its cycle and pull the energy free. The silver line flickers violently before dimming.

Isolde steps over the broken section with controlled accuracy, moving toward me slowly instead of throwing herself into my arms like some dramatic storybook heroine.

Good.

If she had run at me right now, I might have stopped thinking entirely.

She stops close enough that I feel her body through the cold iron air and rests one hand lightly against my forearm.

The bond steadies.

“You came fast,” she says softly.

“You sent a distress signal through a magical prison. I took that personally.”

Her eyes flick briefly toward the open door. “Vaerith wanted you angry.”

“He succeeded.”

“Yes,” she replies dryly. “I noticed the smoking ward locks.”

A slow clap echoes through the corridor.

Isolde’s fingers tighten around my sleeve.

Vaerith stands beyond the doorway framed by dim red wardlight, dressed now in darker robes stripped of the elaborate ceremonial embroidery from earlier. No guards stand behind him. No witnesses. No noble audience waiting to applaud his performance.

He expected this.

“How touching,” Vaerith says smoothly, applauding one final time before lowering his hands. “Predictable, certainly, but touching.”

I shift Isolde behind me automatically. My arm moves across her waist with firm pressure, and she follows the motion while glaring at my back in visible irritation.

Vaerith notices.

His smile sharpens.

“Hybrid breaches noble confinement wards,” he says, pacing one slow step closer. “Assaults estate personnel. Extracts a ward under pending legal review. You are determined to become useful to me.”

I keep my gaze locked on him. “I left your guards breathing.”

“How merciful.”