“Adraa!” Riya shouts.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I wave her off. “Though this is the second time today I have rolled in the dirt.”
“I was only trying—”
“I know.”
She helps me stand and I brush dirt from my sore hip. I’m going to need a little pink magic today to ease the bruises.
“What in Wickery did you do? Before he cast.”
“I took it back.” I clench my left hand. It’s the opposite of a burnout; it’s a renewal. Instead of feeling like jelly, my arm is solid steel.
“That was dumb. You don’t know what reabsorbing all that power could have done to you.”
“Yeah, I know,” I admit. I hadn’t exactly meant for it to happen.
“How did you do it? I don’t remember ever learning that kind of spell. I don’t even know anyone who has done that.”
“I…made it up.”
“Made it up? Gods, you and your experiments.”
“I created firelight, it responds to me. I just kind of did it.” Though I don’t think I should ever try it again.
“Well, you freaked him out.” Riya stares down at Basu. “That worm! Doesn’t he know he could be arrested for casting against a Belwar?” The anger seems to have migrated. Somehow, the fight calmed me, but Riya’s failure to protect me ignites her, must bite into her self-worth.
“You did great, Riya.”
“I failed. If that was anyone with a higher Touch or if you hadn’t seen it coming…”
“You won’t let it happen again.”
We share a long look.
“So what now? Should I arrest him?” She kicks at Basu’sboot.
“Guess so. Bring him to my father’s attention, ask him for help in the matter. He was my parents’ friend, after all.”
“This is such a mess.”
I squat next to Basu, feel for the rhythmic beat of his pulse. “It’ll be my job one day, right? To clean up messes?”
Riya smiles and rubs my cheek with her sleeve. She shows me the dirt. “You look the part for sure.”
I rub at my face too and the sleeve comes back dusty. “Gods, and I met my fiancé like this.”
It is not always pleasant to work with the Dome Guard. Formality drips from the interaction, or maybesaturatesis a better word. Riya and I explain the entire situation, and the leader, an older, gray-haired guard, shrugs, having to trust me when an unconscious wizard sits at our feet.
I would like to request that Basu be delivered to the holding orbs below the palace, but they were abandoned after Mother’s arrival on the mainland years ago. She couldn’t stand sleeping above criminals. I can’t blame her. On Pire Island, prison cells dangle off the cliffs, just in case, you know, someone should break free. In Belwar, the only prison, the Dome, lies in the northwest, far from the coast and the ships, and close to Mount Gandhak. It’s a stone sphere of a building standing in the shadow of a volcano, hence its name. It’s daunting enough to be frightening. When Basu awakens he’s sure going to have a bad surprise.
Two guards restrain Basu with Dome cuffs, which prohibit him from casting any type of magic. The cuffs glow bright yellow as he’s loaded into a windowless carriage. One guard, with a sharp, strong beak of a nose, stares at me throughout, even as he casts orange coils to help him with the weight of Basu’s limp body. It’s a little unsettling, his staring, like we are playing an uncalled-for game. If he asks me to smile I’m going to lose it.
“Your father might have to hold trial if the truth cannot be cast out clearly,” says the leader, who’s taking down my story.
I turn my attention back to him and hope Nose Guard finishes his job quickly. “I understand the casting accords with truth spells. I do not care about his spell against me. I care about the corruption.”
“Will you inform your father?”
