“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen! I wish I could go back and—”
“You can’t. And neither can we.” A grimace splits his pale face. “Not anymore.”
He stiffens, then finally releases me, his body sinking down to the black depths below. I try to grab hold of him, to cry out, to follow him, but at that moment, an icy hand closes hard around my wrist.
Not my father’s grip this time. Someone else’s. Someone from above.
I’m yanked hard and fast from the deep, my body bursting out into the cool night air. I suck in big gulps of it, so certain it’s a trick, that at any moment I’ll be pulled back under for good.
But my savior doesn’t release me. He hauls me up into a boat that bobs calmly on a tar-black river.
I lean over the edge and retch, water and grime burning up my throat, making my eyes sting. When I finally turn to see the face of the man who pulled me from Death’s jaws, I gasp.
“Luke?”
“Now who else would row all the way out here just to save you from yourself? Come here, girl. Let me see you.”
My heart nearly bursts with joy at the sight of my childhood friend from Tres Búhos. I throw myself into his arms and laugh right along with him, and in this moment he feels so whole and alive, I almost forget that he isn’t.
But… the man who just saved my lifeisn’tmy friend Luke. He can’t be. Luke was possessed and turned into dark-mage barbecue before I even set foot on Academy grounds.
More tricks of the realm. More deadly traps.
I wrench free and back up to the edge of the little rowboat, my hand curling around an invisible pommel as if the Sword of Breath and Blade was already in my possession.
Don’t I fucking wish…
Immediately the imposter’s eyes turn black, his smile melting into a menacing scowl. “Is that any way to treat an old friend, witch girl?”
“You mean a monsterposingas an old friend? Yeah, I’d say it’sexactlythe way to treat you.”
I raise my hands and call on my newfound air magick, throwing a little water magick into the mix too. If all elemental magick operates on the same basic principles, it’s worth a shot, right?
Wind whips the water into foamy white peaks. The boat lurches, knocking the imposter on his ass. But me? I’mmorethan ready for this wild ride.
I’m creating it. Channeling it. Manifesting it with all my magickal might.
Air and water, sword and cup
Turn this river bottom up
By the winds the waters churn
Break this vessel bow to stern
I shout to be heard over the wind as it buffets us on all sides, threatening to toss us both overboard. The imposter scrambles to his feet, desperate to find purchase, but the magick is at my command, and I stand my ground inside the little boat.
Closing my eyes, I repeat my chant, envisioning my Princesses—Swords, with her black raven and tattered blue gowns, raising her silver sword high. Wands, that fiery badass, standing her ground with her staff at the ready. Pentacles, the young girl always eager to learn, to share. And Cups, holding her golden chalice to the heavens.
They appear in my mind and clasp hands, their power rising and swirling, merging into a tempest worthy of legend.
It’s mine for the taking, and I take itgladly, unleashing it with a ferocity that makes my Princesses beam with pride.
“By the winds the waters churn,” I repeat. “Break this vessel bow to stern!”
Magick flows from my hands, my lips, my hair, spinning us faster and faster and faster, a toy boat set atop a whirlpool.
“Stop it, you crazy bitch!” the imposter shouts. “You’re going to kill us!”
