“Then where are the cloistered acolytes?”
A drop of sweat slips from the top of his bald head and slides down his cheek. “I don’t owe you any answers. You’ve destroyed this great people, Elli. Your rebels were responsible for the fire yesterday, weren’t they?”
“Why Mim?” I ask, sorrow tightening my throat.
“The Soturi announced that they were coming to meet with our queen, and we needed someone to play the part,” he says simply. “And she had no magic of her own. No will, either. We knew she wouldn’t cause trouble.”
“Because you tortured her!” I shriek, my fury hot as iron.
Aleksi sneers. “Like you, she was worth nothing! But you are even worse. You felt entitled to what you never deserved. Instead of obedience and submission, you—”
“Obedience and submission? The Valtia is supposed to be the queen!”
“You are far from a queen.” His thin lips curl in contempt. “Your rebels will bring the Soturi to our borders. Their chieftains are probably galloping straight to Vasterut to gather their forces. When they return, our downfall rests on your shoulders!”
His fingers flex, and fire bursts around me, a swirling, dancing, roaring wall of flame. The warmth licks at me like a tender caress, and despite my instincts to cower, I walk forward.
The flames part like a curtain to allow me through. Aleksi’s eyes go wide. He raises his arm, and the cold descends, but it can’t even raise goose bumps along my skin. “You were prepared to kill me. You whipped me, you nearly drowned me, and then you were going to discard me. Had you planned to drink my blood, too?”
He edges toward the entrance to the catacombs, tossing nervous glances at the Saadella’s wing as he does. He touches the cuff of Astia and tries another blast of flame, but it dies quickly. “You found your magic,” he says.
I smile as I hear Oskar’s voice just outside the temple, shouting to Sig about where to strike next. “I guess you could say I did.” I take a few steps backward. I want Oskar and Sig to reach me quickly.
“They’re coming!” screams Armo, staggering into the chamber with burned hands and patches of frostbite across his bald head. “We can’t hold them back!” He stumbles and falls, then scoots along the floor until he’s over the seal of the Saadella. “Elder, pl—”
Fire rolls between two pillars and unfurls across his back. The plea becomes a scream as Sig stalks into the domed chamber, glaring at his old friend with flames in his eyes. Aleksi snarls and shoves his arm out—but the attack isn’t made of ice. He sends pure heat at Sig, who has no cold to counter it. I start for the Fire Suurin, desperate to protect him, but Aleksi lunges forward and grabs me. I slam my elbow into his soft belly and he huffs, his chubby fingers twisting in my hair. Sig falls to his knees, his skin red, his eyes squeezed shut. Aleksi wrenches me against him as he sends another blast of fire toward Sig.
It hits a wall of icy air. Oskar strides into the temple, thunder in his gaze as he takes in my naked form, legs drawn up to my chest, fighting to free my hair from Aleksi’s merciless grasp without touching his bare skin—I don’t want him to have my power, or even know of it. Unfortunately, that means I can’t free myself just yet.
Oskar hooks his hand under Sig’s arm and lifts the fire wielder to his feet. Sig draws in deep breaths of the cool air in Oskar’s wake as sweat streams down his bare torso. His cloak clings to his damp back and shoulders, and he leans against the Ice Suurin to stay upright.
Oskar’s jaw is tight as he stares at Aleksi. “You’re making your final mistake, Elder,” he says quietly.
“The only mistakes are yours!” shouts Aleksi. “Listen to the destruction in the white plaza. So many young wielders! Our future!”
“Your future!” Oskar roars. His voice rings with disgust—he’s killed over and over, and he looks sick with the knowledge. “How many futures have you stolen to ensure your own?”
Aleksi drags me backward. “I have lived to serve the magic of the Kupari,” he snaps. “Everything I’ve done has been for that reason.” As we near the entrance to the catacombs, I get desperate, and my fingernails claw at his skin. He lets out a surprised grunt and grabs my right hand, grinding the stumps of my lost fingers between his own and making me shriek with pain. He looks down at the cuff clamped over his thick wrist, and then down at me. The swell beneath his chin trembles as one of his hands disappears into his baggy sleeve. “Why didn’t we think of this?” His eyes are shining, and panic fills my hollow chest. “Why didn’t we guess?”