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A twin to the first.

The clatter paused behind me, and I looked to see that Stian had halted, shock widening his eyes. Then rage kindled inside them.

And he sprang.

I lurched out of his grasp just in time, trying to stand—

Pain blasted through my shoulder, and I cried out. He’d yanked on my healing injury, knowing exactly where to target.

My left hand curled blindly around a dayglass shard which sliced deep into my palm. I twisted, driving the glass into Stian’s arm.

He roared. But rather than loosen his hold, he wrenched my arm behind my back and pinned me face-down on the floor. I kept my other hand locked tight around the compass even as he gripped my wrist and slammed it down, trying to get me to open my fist. Then his specter brushed against my neck, the frayed ripples gaining solidity.

And panic set me thrashing.

Because Stian’s specter was already coalescing. But mine was not.

I kicked and flailed, bucking in his grip, but he held strong. He was only biding his time until he could use his specter to crush me out of consciousness. To prize open my fist, so he could finally give Erik everything he wanted: the last piece of his puzzle, and me.

A desperate sound tore out of me as I tried to prematurely solidify my power.

“Yield, Alissa,” Stian growled, his grip like iron. “You are only hurting yourself.”

His voice overlapped with Erik’s in my mind: If you won’t learn when to yield, I must teach you through demonstration.

But who were these men to teach me anything? I’d plunged into rushing waters and had not yielded to death.

I would not yield to them.

With a new fire burning in me, I fought harder, knowing I wasn’t just fighting for myself. I was fighting for Carmen, whose crown had been stolen from her at birth. For Imogen and the other witness, who had died for a secret that wasn’t their own. For Rheya, who, in her misplaced kindness, had trusted someone who’d always intended to betray her.

And deep down, I knew I was also fighting in memory of the boy Erik had once been. The boy whose concept of love had become permanently entwined with brutality, whose innocence had been sacrificed for the dark ambitions of the man behind me.

The man who may very well outmatch me on a battleground.

But never on a gameboard.

As powerful as it may be, Rheya had once said, your specter should never be the greatest tool in your arsenal. For it could then, very quickly, become your greatest weakness.

So, as Stian’s specter finally gained enough strength to wrap around my throat, I stopped trying to fortify my own power. Instead, I uncurled my fist from around the compass and, using my thumbnail, I unlatched the lid.

Grounded in my palm, the compass would not target me.

But it targeted him.

I knew the moment the needle stilled, because Stian’s power tensed as though in sudden distress. His grip went similarly rigid around me.

Then all at once, his specter rushed off my skin as if it had been yanked away.

I took a great inhale and scrambled to my feet. Panting, I looked down and halted.

Erik’s father was on his knees before me, wide-eyed with panic. Suffering from the debilitating internal pressure I knew too well.

The pressure of the compass’s pull.

“I have always been more than my specter,” I said, standing over him with the compass in my hand. “With or without it, I will never be powerless. But you . . .” I looked him over and sneered. “You are nothing without yours.”

Stian’s expression darkened. He braced a fist in the broken glass, as though to push himself up.