Cast. End this now. Fight.
I had never agreed to “no magic,” and who would honor a deal with the villain? I could cast now. It would be so easy.
The second dagger withdrew from its sheath at my arm.
Darren’s gaze flit to the blade hovering in the air.
“Do it.” His eyes were twin pits of black; his taunt daring and cold. “Kill me.”
The second dagger dipped low against his chest. One swift push was all it would take.
Do it.
My casting trembled in the air as the magic pulsed along my skin.
Kill me.
There were a thousand and one reasons to take the Black Mage’s life. My friends. The rebels. Jerar.
My stomach clenched as my eyes locked on his. He was a monster, but I wasn’t any better. And if I did this…
Ian had been the one to say it: “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t hold yourself responsible for what he’s become.”
My friend was right. I did. And if I cheated our magicless duel, I was no better than the traitor Darren believed me to be.
I couldn’t do this.
Gods, I knew everything Darren had done, everything he would do, but I still…
No.
Not like this.
“One blade.” My mouth was dry as I croaked the words. “No magic.”
The second dagger returned to its sheath.
Darren would kill me. His eyes locked on mine and I could see it. There was hate. So much hate. It was drowning me, and it was everything I had ever done. I could see it right there in his eyes.
Fight.
It was the two of us, our arms crossed and weapons drawn.
My fingers trembled against the blade, and my wrist burned where his skin pressed down against my own. I could feel his pulse hammering against his veins.
Do it.
An ear-shattering roar cut the air, and for a moment, for a moment I thought I’d made a mistake.
But then it happened again.
My eyes were still on Darren as the ceiling creaked and groaned up above. They remained on Darren as the walls began to quake, as the pool splintered and the two of us staggered back, the ice shattering like a web.
His eyes were on the passage behind us. “Yours or mine?”
I heard my friends screaming at the top of their lungs: “No!” “Stop, Quinn!”
“Mine.”
The rebels didn’t need to kill the king; they just needed to bury him alive. And if I was a casualty? Well, sacrifices had to be made.
There was another boom and my pulse caught in my throat.
This was the part that I was supposed to accept, the part where I proclaimed my unrelenting devotion to Jerar. The hero didn’t fear death, and up until that moment, neither had I.
But, gods, here and now? Like this? Under a mountain of rubble instead of a quick blade to the neck?
I had blocked our only reasonable escape; my reserve wasn’t large enough to cast a way out the way we had come.
It isn’t “our” escape. It’s yours. Take advantage of the confusion and slit his throat.
The dagger was right there in my palm. Darren was distracted, staring out at his crown as it sunk into the dark waters below; it must have fallen during the first attack.
This is it. If I did it now, the rebels might even find a way to get to me in time. I might still live.
Another loud thud and I jumped. The first shard of ice hit the ground two yards to my left. It exploded apart, spraying my arms and legs.
Seconds later another followed.
My gaze shot to the ceiling just as a large chunk broke away. Right above our heads.
I couldn’t move.
Something hard clipped my side—Darren. It was all the warning I needed.
I started to run. Darren was already sprinting toward the western tunnel. The dark passage led to gods only knew—a dead end or escape.
It didn’t matter either way.
My mission was to kill the king. Wherever he went, I followed.
*
We were still running as thunder rained down from above.
Large spirals of ice plummeted like daggers to the ground, tearing their way into the earth. Snow and rock followed, splintering the walls.
We skidded along the passage as fast as we dared. Bleeding knees and crippled hands made every leap harder than the last. We ducked and dove in a maze of ice with a palm of light to guide the way.
The pain in my head was almost blinding. Again and again, I had to cast enough force to blast the parts of the ceiling that were seconds from crushing my limbs. And from the labored gasps up ahead, I could tell Darren wasn’t faring much better, if at all.
My legs ached. Every muscle was on fire, and I could barely feel my lungs save for the flames eating my chest from the inside.
The rebels had set an avalanche in motion, and it was only a matter of time.
Parts of the passage were colder, darker, impossibly narrow with jagged bits that reached out like jaws. My shoulder caught against something sharp, but I didn’t dare stop. I kept running with my arms tucked close to my sides, dripping blood.