“I didn’t,” Tenn said. “It...it used me.”
“He’s clearly crazy,” Derrick said, “or just trying to save his own a—”
The Sphere of Air opened in Jarrett’s throat, harsh and pale blue, and a second later Derrick slammed against the wall. Jarrett didn’t even gesture or take his eyes off Tenn.
“What’s your name?” Jarrett asked.
“Tenn.”
Jarrett’s eyes narrowed.
“And you say your Sphere...what? Acted against your will? Used itself?”
A lump lodged in Tenn’s throat, but he forced himself to speak.
“We were surrounded. Only two of us left. I was prepared to die. I swear. But Water just...took over. Before I could stop it...” Tenn took a deep breath. Saying it again felt like insanity. “It killed every single Howl surrounding us. In a heartbeat. Before I could try to stop it.”
Jarrett didn’t say anything. Not for a long time. And whether Derrick was silent out of newfound respect or some sort of invisible gag, Tenn couldn’t say. Tenn didn’t care. He couldn’t take his gaze off Jarrett. Not because he was scared—though he was, definitely—but because there was something about the way Jarrett looked at him that sent electricity through his veins. Like Jarrett knew his secrets.
It should have made him feel like he was being appraised. Instead, he felt, in that moment, like the center of Jarrett’s universe.
He couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it.
“Is this the first time it’s happened, Tenn?” Jarrett asked. Just hearing Jarrett say his name sent another course of energy through his veins. It was nothing like what he’d felt around Tomás, but the intensity was just as sharp.
“Yes. Sir.”
“Call me Jarrett,” he replied. He lowered his voice. “When this is over...we’ll talk again. At length.” He looked Tenn up and down. “I want you to stay out of the fight. The reports say you don’t have many healers out here, so we’ll need all the Earth mages we can get. And if your Spheres are acting up, I think it’s best you stay out of battle.”
Jarrett patted him on the shoulder and left. Derrick slumped down from the wall, rubbing his throat. He didn’t approach Tenn, but the glare he shot over was enough.
“You killed her, didn’t you?” he rasped. “You killed her, and now you’ve damned all of us.”
He spat on the ground.
“You’re no better than a fucking Howl.”
He walked out, and all light went with him.
There, in the darkness, Tenn began to wonder if it would have been better if he’d died.
*
It was sometime past midnight. The troop was assembled and the orders had been given. Tenn was back on the roof of the hotel, most of the troop stationed to the city or field beyond. Katherine’s body had been...removed. He didn’t ask where, or by whom. No one told him. No one told him anything.
Especially not the two Hunters he’d been stationed with.
Devon and Dreya stood farther back. They’d been there when he arrived, and when he tried to introduce himself, they stared at him like he was speaking a different language. He shrunk under Dreya’s hawk-like glare and didn’t try speaking to them again.
The rain pounded down harder now, but he barely felt it. It was a perk of being attuned to Water, though it didn’t necessarily make up for the emotional backlash. You took what you could get. Like Tenn, the cold and the rain didn’t seem to bother the newcomers. He looked back to them. They stood on opposite sides of the roof, both open to Air as they scanned the sky.
Neither of the twins spoke as they stood there, waiting. Minutes churned to hours. The night deepened. His nerves sharpened to daggers with every drop of rain. He wasn’t just waiting. He was waiting to die.
No. He was waiting for something else to go horribly wrong.
He stiffened when Dreya walked up next to him. She stood by his shoulder, staring out at the abandoned town. She was almost a head shorter than him, though she seemed much taller.
“You say that Water used you,” she said. Her voice was soft, barely carrying over the rain, but it was perfectly enunciated.
He nodded.
“That should not be possible,” she continued.
“I know.”
She didn’t say anything for a while, so he took that as his opportunity.
“Why are you here?”
“Because you need us.”
It was not the response he expected. She had to be lying—they were clearly here because of him, to take him away. They were just guarding him to ensure he didn’t escape.
“Then why just the three of you? If you’re here to stop the army, why didn’t they send more?”
She laughed. It was high, and childish, and completely belied her serious demeanor.
“We are more than enough, Tenn,” she said. “Besides, the Prophets did not send us here to save your army. They sent us to save you.”
He couldn’t speak. The fear in his chest prevented it. The Prophets were a group of mages dedicated to understanding the fifth and elusive Sphere of Maya—the one Sphere you couldn’t attune to by choice. It had to choose you. No one had seen the Prophets, no one knew how to contact them, but many battles were won or prevented by their guidance. Tenn didn’t know how anyone learned what the Prophets decreed. He’d never wanted to ask.
The future wasn’t something he wanted to know too much about.
“You are being noticed,” Dreya whispered. She reached out and touched his neck. Right where Tomás had gripped his throat before. “That is a very dangerous thing.”
Fire blossomed on the horizon, a red stain on night’s canvas. He didn’t have a chance to speak.
“That is the first line,” Dreya said. In this new light, her damp hair glinted rose. “The army is near.”
Tenn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d spent the last week waiting for the executioner’s ax to fall, and here it was, at last.
Dreya walked back to her brother, who stood with his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed. The red on the horizon seeped closer, the whole town illuminated in its ghostly light. Tenn could sense the magic even from here. Somewhere out there, the necromancers were pulling out their big guns and spurring their undead army with fire and fear. Tenn counted the seconds in his head, like counting the space between lightning and thunder. He counted the seconds until death arrived.
Deep in the pit of his stomach, the Sphere of Water simmered. It knew battle was coming, and it was excited.
Flames leaped higher, burning through the fields and stretching to the clouds above. The wall of flame burned white-hot, speeding toward the city in a ravenous wave. Years ago, magic had turned the tides of war. It was no longer the most powerful who walked away from battle, but the quickest. He prayed his comrades in the field had shielded themselves. He prayed that he would get out of here alive, that Water wouldn’t destroy him.
The fire splashed closer, only a mile away. Its roar chilled his bones, and its heat threatened to melt him.