A single room with dozens of Feng’s bombs.
But see, even as this realization crashed over me, even as I was convinced that we were all about to die and I was going to fail my one godsdamned job, I should have had more faith. I should have realized that the star dragon, and maybe even the gods themselves, had a vested interest in keeping me alive.
They were supposed to be impartial.
But I didn’t really think that they were.
Gods sucked, but they weren’t evil.
And if I was going to face Myrin in some awesomely epic showdown where I’d ultimately emerge victorious and live happily ever after, then of course something was going to happen to get us out of this situation.
The doorknob turned.
Justin pulled the door open.
Feng said, “Dis has been fun, but iz time for—”
“What in the holy fucking balls of shit is all this, then?” a loud (and much beloved) voice screeched. I’d never been happier to hear that grating sound in my life.
Feng turned.
Gary stood in the doorway, glitter starting to drift off him in that way it did when he was really working his way up into a rage. There was no love lost between Justin and him, but even Gary understood the importance of the Prince.
Tiggy stood next to him, cocking his head at Feng like a gigantic puppy. “Hi.”
And for a moment, I almost felt bad for Feng and for what was about to happen to him.
I shouted, “Tiggy! You smash that motherfucker!”
The inquisitive expression immediately fell off his face, and the half-giant snarled at Feng. “TIGGY SMASH!”
“Oh my goodness,” Feng whispered. “Dis iz gonna—”
Tiggy didn’t even give him a chance to finish his sentence. His fist was already cocked back by the time Feng had uttered his first word.
There are certain benefits in having a half-giant as a best friend. One, a half-giant tends to have a really awesome face made for smiling that you just want to squish between your hands as you kiss their nose. Two, they give the best hugs, these all-encompassing things that cause your bones to creak. Three, they are so much smarter than people give them credit for, even if they tend to speak differently than most. Four, they are more loyal than any other creature you could ever meet.
And five, they love to smash.
Feng didn’t stand a chance.
Ryan was already moving by the time Tiggy’s fist collided with Feng’s face. Feng was knocked back, head jerking to the right, blood and shards of teeth spraying from his mouth. Justin went flying too but was caught by Ryan before he could hit the floor. There was a moment when Justin looked up at Ryan with stars in his eyes that I considered shoving one of Feng’s bombs up his ass just to see what would happen, but I pushed it away, watching as Feng flew back against Mama’s desk with a loud crack before he slumped to the floor. A few of the bombs fell to the floor and split, spilling black powder in little trails in his lap and along the floor. Feng groaned, his face not exactly the same shape it’d been just a minute before.
Letnia stood in front of Mama, shielding her even as Mama tried to shove her aside. Gary was cooing at Tiggy, who looked pleased with himself. Morgan and Randall started to relax. Justin and Ryan stood, and Ryan looked toward me, arching an eyebrow, asking silently if I’d seen how badass he was. Gods, he was so hot. A douchebag, sure, but I wanted to ruin him.
Then Feng laughed.
I looked down at the bloody wasteland that was his face. There was a broken tooth stuck in blood on his chin. His nose was curved to the right. I could see the impression of Tiggy’s fist on his left cheek. One eye was already swelling shut. He was a mess, a gross, disgusting tragedy, but he was smiling and laughing, and it was the most horrible sound I’d ever heard.
I hunkered down in front of him, his one good eye tracking my movement even as he chuckled still. “Sorry about that,” I said. “But you know how it is. You threaten a half-giant’s family, half-giant messes up your whole face. Don’t know if it’s that funny, though. Unless somehow the joke’s gone over my head. Which, okay. Sometimes that happens.”
“Not… that,” he said. “You… tink… you’ve won.”
“We have,” I told him as kindly as I could. “Today, we have. And we will win the rest of it too. That’s the difference between us and the Darks. We know—”
“You talk. And talk.”
“It’s certainly not monologuing, if that’s what you’re—”
“Here. I show you.”
I cocked my head at him.
“Behold,” he said, nodding toward his lap.
I looked down.
Black powder coated his front where the wooden spheres had cracked or broken. Some were still intact. Up close, I could smell it now, the powder. It was sharp and dank, like the Dark Woods after it rained. I thought maybe there were notes of wormwood and agrimony, pungent and thick. It was all over the floor underneath him. Underneath me.
And then I saw it.
The smoke curling up from his fisted hand, which rested on his lap.
He laughed again as his fingers unfurled.
The cigar. Letnia’s cigar. Squished from his grip.
But the tip was still lit. There was a burn mark on his palm, the skin blistered and red.
“Boom,” Feng said with a bloody grin, and tipped the cigar so it rolled off his fingers toward a pile of the black powder.
I didn’t have time to think. I could hear him laughing. I could feel the blood rushing in my head, could feel my heart bursting in my chest, the only thoughts in my head bright and flashing NO NO NO NO.
The cigar hit the powder and ignited.
NO NO NO—
There was a flash and—
Seconds turned to hours, because one moment there was ignition, and the next, Morgan was at my side, arms stretched out wide, palms facing forward. I felt his magic roll right over me as he started to swing his arms forward. The room around us burst into a kaleidoscope of color as his hands clapped together, the sound as loud as thunder. And then he spread his hands again, just as quickly, and there was such power that I was gagging on it and—
The powder reacted and Feng exploded.
But it was contained. It was controlled. The explosion arced outward, fire reaching, burning, but it stopped before it could overtake me or anyone else in the room. It was like there was a spherical barrier that surrounded Feng, turning back the strength of the fire he’d carried upon himself. The fire had no place else to go, so it curled in on itself violently. And if I focused, if I looked just hard enough, I could see the outline of the sphere, the curve of it, the shifting colors faint along its surface mixing with arcane symbols I’d never seen before. I could barely make out Feng inside the sphere, but part of Mama’s desk must have been caught inside the magic, as the flames crawled along it, scarring and scorching the wood, splintering it off in pieces at the force of it.