“He will not let me go. He believes I have a role to play in all this. In restoring the balance. Fulfilling the prophecy.”
“You may well doom us all long before you deliver thatheralded salvation,” Yale says, his words stark. “In the strongest terms, I would advise against such a union. I would urge you to put a stop to this—before it is too late.”
My heart pounds so hard it strains my rib cage. “And if I don’t comply?”
“Then you should be prepared to face the consequences. I have been charged with the protection of this land. I cannot—I will not—let a threat go unchecked. Not even from a child of the prophecy.”
The song is not yet over, but I draw to a halt, pulling back from his hold. My golden-winged sleeves flutter as I lower my arms to my sides. I am quite finished with his false show of civility, with his camouflaged threats and ill-concealed judgments.
“Thank you for the delightful dance,” I say in a tone that undermines my words. I do not wait for a response as I turn and bolt from him, cutting a blind path through the crush of gliding couples. But his voice follows me as I go, a sharp rebuke that cuts me to the bone.
“You would be wise to heed my warning, Rhya. I will not give another.”
Chapter
Thirty
The first firework explodes above me as I race across the bridge, ducking around clusters of people who line the railings to watch the vibrant display of sound and color. I jolt at the sudden boom but do not slow, do not stop. The crowd is dense but distracted—necks craned back to the sky, mouths agape in awe, eyes wide in wonder. No one pays me much attention as I race through their midst.
Flashes of color chase me all the way to the end of the bridge, then along the lakeshore. The water’s surface reflects every detonation, a fluid rainbow in the night. Even more Caelderans are gathered at the banks, a thick throng of drunken revelers that spilled out from the main square of the marketplace at the stroke of midnight.
The marketplace seems to be the epicenter of the evening’s festivities, packed with spectators and entertainers alike. I do not pause longer than a heartbeat to watch the fire-eaters breathing mouthfuls of flame on the makeshift stage, do not hesitate more than a second to gawp at the painted contortionists writhing in suspended hoops above the crowd, pouring sparkling liquor from crystalline bottles between the parted lips of those passing below.
There is no time to linger. All too soon, Cadogan and Jac will realize I’ve slipped away from the dance floor, using the commotion around the fireworks display to camouflage my escape. They will pursue me, I have little doubt. But I do not think of that as I run, a streak of gold, through the firelit city streets, my flimsy satin slippers clapping against the cobblestones hard enough to bruise my soles. Nor do I consider that it is perhaps not the wisest course to abandon my net of protection as I round corners and dart past illuminated stoops, where couples sway in each other’s arms and families of all sizes gather—especially in light of what I’ve learned from Yale.
We cannot keep track of the threats. Some of them may be here tonight. Some of them may be on this very dance floor.
I turn down a narrow street as a series of earsplitting booms sound. Red, violet, blue, orange, a kaleidoscope of fiery powder flaring across the sky. I plow straight into a group of gawky youngsters with their wide eyes fixed upward, too transfixed to take notice of me. Their innocent enjoyment is a sharp contrast to the brimming conflict inside.
I cannot go back to the party. My thoughts are as jumbled as the feelings in my chest, where my heart races at twice its normal speed. My emotions are a gathering storm, mirroring the maegical one that rages deep beneath my skin.
Yale’s words haunt my every step.
It is only a matter of time before one of Efnysien’s lackeys succeeds where Lieutenant Gower failed.
I run on, faster, harder, trying to outrun his voice in my head. Even as I do, I know it is useless. I cannot outrun the truth. Not for much longer.
He is in love with you. I have seen it.
I am spinning out of control. Losing my grip on my emotions—and, with them, the gate within. My power rattles at it, desperatefor release. Normally, I would go to the cavern behind the falls to recalibrate. Not tonight. There are too many people near the palace, too many watchful eyes tracking my every movement.
You may well doom us all.
I do not even consciously realize where I’m headed until I am there, standing at the base of the cliff side, staring at the shadowy mouth of the old mine shaft. Hauling a shaky breath into my lungs, I brace myself against the unpleasant sensation of confinement and enter the passage. Darkness engulfs me. Darkness and absolute quiet—such a glaring difference from the rest of the city. Even the booms of the fireworks show are muted by the heavy earth.
By the time I reach the lift, claustrophobia grips my lungs like a vise. My hand trembles as I raise it to the wall, fingertips guiding me where my eyes cannot, moving over the rough surface until I feel a series of gouges in the stone.
A glyph.
I have never activated one before—not intentionally, anyway—but I do not second-guess my own abilities as I pull a diaphanous tendril of maegic from the swirling storm clouds within me. It comes all too easily; my maegic brims very close to the surface tonight. On a sharp exhale, I send it pulsing out through my palm. Satisfaction fills me when I am instantly rewarded with a red glow.
The floor lurches as the lift activates, rising steadily through the shaft. I do not draw breath for the entirety of the journey. If there is any relief when I finally jolt to a stop at the top, it is quickly overridden by stronger emotions—the same ones that led me here in the first place. I make my way out of the tunnel, fighting my own feet to keep from running through the final stretch of darkness.
I pass through the portal chamber, its glyphs dark and dormant against the far wall. Taking a ragged breath, I step out ontothe precipice. The breath catches in my throat when my eyes land on the silhouetted figure by the edge.
He is here.
Of course he is here. That is, after all, why I have come—following the faint thread of our bond through the night without thought, without question, as soon as I was close enough to sense it.