Then the mountain shrieked as the rig exploded.
A force wave rippled through the forest. Yassen hit the ground hard, the air rushing straight out of him. He gasped. His mind spun: the mine, the explosion,get up, run, run! But his body was slow to respond. Ash rained down and blotted out the pale moons, the sky. It reminded Yassen of the temple, of Samson, of Elena. He scrambled to his knees, felt around for his gun. His fingers grazed metal, and Yassen grabbed it. Blinking, he brought it in front of his face and realized it was not his gun, but a stray scrap of the rig.
“El-Elena!” He vaulted to his feet. The heavens swam, and Yassen reached out to steady himself. Instead of bark, he found flesh. Elena pulled at him, her hair covered in bramble, her eyes wide, her mouth moving, telling him something. He shook his head. Sound came roaring back.
“The brenni!” she shouted.
He looked around but did not see the animals. He hoped they were okay. He began to reach for his weapon but only felt his empty hip.Where is my gun?
Elena grabbed him, and they ran into the trees. Many of the pines had snapped in half from the blast, and the ones that were still standing leaned precariously.
“This way,” he croaked. He tugged her to the left, and they tore through the underbrush. Elena kicked something, and Yassen saw a flash of silver.
The gun!He shot forward as it fell in a patch of splintered neverwood. Yassen winced as he pulled out the pistol, thorns digging into his skin. Elena slid to a stop beside him, doubling over.
“Can it still shoot?” she panted. When he did not respond, she shook him.
“Yassen. Yassen!” she yelled, but he had finally answered his question.
The blackened path. The sudden fire.
Dread spread down his throat and chest.
“The Arohassin.”
It was the only explanation. The Jantari soldiers must have created a fake blaze to lure Elena and him to the mines. They had deliberately burned ore at the second mine—that’s why it had been so small. Why the fire had not spread to the forest.
They had wanted the queen to show her face.
“He knows,” Yassen croaked. Only Akaros could have designed a trick like this—a trick that came with sacrifice and reward. “The second mine was bait,” he said. “They know we’re here.”
Elena shook her head. “But why would they destroy their own ore? It makes no sense.”
“The hoverpods.” Yassen’s eyes widened. “You said at the first mine, there were three. Here, there was only one. They must have already taken the ore away.”
“And we never saw the other hoverpod burn down,” Elena said. “Which means, it got out. They got all their fucking ore out.”
A staccato drone cut through the roar of the flames, and Yassen looked up to see two tankers flying up the mountain.The reinforcements.
“Elena.” He took her hand. “Run.”
But she stood still, and he could see the wheels turning in her mind, could see her weigh the options. The tunnel was their only chance at survival, and when Elena’s mouth hardened into a grudging scowl, he knew she saw it too.
“We won’t be able to get far,” she said, and he was surprised by how measured and calm her voice was. “Not without the brenni. We need to slow them down.”
“How?”
Her gaze met his, and he saw a smoldering look in her eyes as she raised her hands.
“We burn the way to us.”
Elena whirled before he could stop her. She widened her stance and raised her hands. A hiss slithered up the trees. He saw a wink of red in her palm, and then it grew into a flame. With a jab, Elena threw the flame onto the molorian that sheltered them. It lit up like a torch. Elena turned, and the fire moved with her, leaping down the mountain.
He could not deny her power. He could feel it ripple off her like heat waves over a dune. The Arohassin preached that fire was cruel and so were its masters. But Elena was not the hell and brimstone he had been taught to fear. She could be harsh, but she was a queen. A protector rather than a destroyer. She had a responsibility toward her people, and no one, not even he, Yassen realized with a chill, could stand in her way.
“Elena,” he called.
For a moment, she stared at the burning branches and the smoke, her shoulders outlined by the light of the inferno.The Burning Queen, the servants had called her. But then she turned to him. This time, the bewitched look was not in her eyes. There lay only somberness.
