Nothing magical can harm me. I look behind me, and there’s a crowd of black robes between me and my Suurin, who are fighting for their lives against a horde of priests and apprentices. If they can’t reach me, I can’t magnify their power. But even without me, the small group of rebels is holding their own, pushing the enemy back. Oskar and Sig are shoulder to shoulder now, protecting each other and wielding as one force, though the fire strikes with precision and the ice is wielded like a blunt instrument.
And I’m standing in the middle of the plaza. Forgotten. Unchallenged. I look up the long flight of steps leading to the domed chamber. Inside is the child Saadella—and the elders. The fury twists inside me. I walk forward, only dimly aware of the Valtia statues in the fountains cracking, of marble exploding outward as blasts of fire and ice tear them apart. The shards pock the marble slabs at my feet, but not a single bit strikes me. But when a wall of flame crackles and blasts against my back, the ashy cinders of my burning dress fill the air. With a pang of sorrow, I know my carved dove is aflame, but I let the fiery garment fall from my shoulders. My boots become charcoal as the marble at my feet becomes hot as a roasting pan.
Naked, barefoot, I move forward. The instinct is so deep. Suddenly I understand why Sofia was so kind, so loving to me. I may not have inherited the magic, but I inherited this. With every shred of my being, I love that little Saadella, as much as I love myself. I don’t know her name, but I don’t need to. She’s my sister, my daughter, my heart. I will never allow the elders to harm her or have her.
There is blood all around, suffering all around, death all around. I can’t look. I don’t want to know who we’ve lost. My eyes burn as I think how all of it could have been prevented. I mount the steps, leaving gray footprints on the pristine white marble and gleaming copper inlay. My hair is ruffled by wind that others will feel as a gale. None of it can slow me down. I hear my name and look behind me. Oskar and the others are advancing—they’ve reached the destroyed fountains now. My dark-haired Ice Suurin looks strong and fearless as he and Sig coordinate their movements, manipulating the temperature to lift a hunk of marble statue in the air. The giant slab of stone falters, and Sig yells at Oskar to focus the cold above the rock and keep it there. Together, they clumsily hurl it at the priests, who barely deflect it.
The elders inside must be aware of what’s happening, but they haven’t come out. They’re depending on their acolytes and priests to die for them, while they hide in the temple with the Saadella.
What if they’re hurting her?
What if they’re escaping?
I stride quickly up the steps until I reach the semicircular plateau of stone that marks the entrance to the temple. Pillars of marble rise mighty and strong every twenty feet or so, holding up the massive copper dome above us. The battle has progressed to the base of the steps, and when I glance beyond them, I see people flooding into the plaza. Nonmagical people, wielding their scythes and spades. Sig and Oskar are surrounded by black-robed wielders, deflecting spikes of ice and magically hurled chunks of broken marble. A small crowd of acolytes have their hands up in surrender, but bodies of wielders litter the wide expanse, crushed and stabbed, burned and frozen. Magic can kill in so many different ways. The elders must know all of them.
But none of them will work on me, and perhaps that’s the reason I’m here. As Oskar and Sig begin to climb the steps, I walk into the domed chamber, my only thought the helpless little girl held prisoner here.
“Is your nakedness meant to distract us?” says the hard voice I fear the most. “I hate to disappoint you.” Aleksi strides out of the Valtia’s wing, his dark eyes full of hatred.
On his wrist is the cuff of Astia.
I look down at my own soft, naked body. It looks so ordinary. I raise my head. “My clothes aren’t fireproof, unfortunately.”
For a moment, uneasiness flickers across his expression, but when his fingers stroke across the copper cuff, he grows bold again. “Where have you been all these weeks? Gathering a tiny army to challenge us? I should freeze you right here and let your body decorate our chamber.” He raises his arm to strike.
I don’t flinch. “Where is the Saadella?”
His thin lips tighten. “Lahja is safe from your influence.”
“Lahja.” Her name is like a drop of sweetness on my tongue. “I need to see her.”
He grimaces. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Do you?” I stand my ground as he stalks forward. Any minute Oskar and Sig will stride into the temple, and we’ll put an end to this madness together. “I sensed you were evil. I just never knew how much.”
His jowls quiver. “We’ve guarded and protected the Kupari our entire lives. We sacrificed in a way you could never understand. We’ve done everything we could for the people. And you—not only did you find a way to deny the magic that should have been yours, you’ve raised a rebellion right when we need unity!”
“Unity.” My fists clench. “Did the acolytes feel that unity as you bled them to death? How many have you tasted, Aleksi? How many have you killed?”
He pales a shade. “This is a ludicrous accusation.”