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“We are here to make a trade,” Torvo announced. His voice carried clearly over the fields. “The princess for the girl.”

Rufus appeared, parting his men as he approached. I would recognize the bastard anywhere and from any distance, the skull inked on his right biceps below his chest armor had sneered at me time and again as he beat and stabbed me in the dungeons. I’d pictured scalding it off his flesh so many times that my fire jumped to my fingertips at the mere memory. Then, it had caused the damned collar to choke me. Now, I simply kept it close with the promise to allow its release as soon as Sharlyne was safe.

Rufus’s body shook with laughter as his men tightened the circle around the group, forcing them to back closer to the fake Leuruna. “I don’t see why we should do anything other than kill all of you and take back what’s ours.”

Galan tapped my arm and jerked his head behind where the distraction was taking place. Down at the base of the hill on the opposite side and heartbreakingly close to Tromodia—home—was the soldier’s camp. Only a handful of men remained behind. On the ground sat my sister, blindfolded, hands tied behind her back, clothing torn and dirty like she’d put up a valiant fight.

She was still, like perhaps she’d gone into a trance. That was good. It was better than fighting and attracting more attention from the four men around her. I motioned with a nod of my head, and we increased our pace toward her.

“Distraction,” I whispered to Galan. There was no way this group wouldn’t see us coming even if the others couldn’t. And until I was close enough to protect her, Sharlyne would be in danger from one of them grabbing her as a shield if we charged.

The gray fox smirked, and a breeze kicked up around the camp below. It was barely noticeable at first, but quickly escalated, until one of the tents set up at the base collapsed. Sharlyne remained still as her hair blew around her and small objects stirred and danced in the wind. Three of the four men jumped up and rushed for the fallen tent, obscenities shooting from their mouths. The last man narrowed his gaze, scanning the area.

Good enough.

On top of the hill where Torvo’s group had gone, the sounds of shouting and metal clanging against metal rang out. Time was up. “Now,” I hissed as I rose and charged down the hill, throwing a fireball not at the guard but at the ground between him and Sharlyne to keep her safe.

The man who’d spotted us drew his sword, but there was barely anyone who could stand against me in hand-to-hand combat. This soldier was no exception. As Galan rushed toward the three surprised guards, I dispatched the other in two quick moves.

Withdrawing my blade from his neck—an easy target not covered properly with armor—I sprayed myself and the ground with hot blood. The smell was too familiar. I shoved away the memories it evoked—not of the many times I’d fought, but instead, of my own blood being spilled, soaking into the dungeon ground in a permanent stain.

I walked through the fire, now ravaging the enemy camp, finally reaching Sharlyne. I yanked off the blindfold, and she blinked up at me as I knelt to cut through her bonds. Galan trotted to my side, carefully dancing around the fire. He’d used his air wielding to tangle the others in the fallen tent’s material where they struggled against the ground, only getting themselves further restrained.

“Get her back to Rune. I’ll help the others.” I patted Galan on the shoulder, snuffing out the fire that approached us with a wave of my hand.

“No need,” a voice said from behind.

I spun to find Rufus, sword tip directed at my heart. His face still bore yellow bruises along the right side from where I’d beat him during our escape from Centos. If only I’d killed him then.

Around us, the fire died. My eyes widened in response to his proximity, pulse thrumming. I hated that the sight of him, leaning over me so close, weapon at my chest, could elicit such a learned reaction.

You are free now, I reminded myself.

But as Galan and Sharlyne were marched forward at blade point by more guards, my heart sank. These others must’ve been cloaked in illusion.

“What is this?” I demanded, fist clenched with the effort of not rushing toward my sister and friend. I glanced up at the hilltop and found the others being marched down toward us, all their hands bound as Sharlyne’s had been.

“You thought you could win?” Rufus laughed again like he thought the whole thing was pathetic. “We have a magic wielder too. Not just any, either—the king himself granted a shard of powerful crystal to him.”

The guard who held his blade at my sister’s throat raised his free hand, showing off a chunk of crystal that brought back the scene of my mother’s murder. My stomach bottomed out, mind working quickly, grasping for solutions when the situation threated to drown me in memories of fear and helplessness.

The stories of my uncle, the brave man destined to be king, who had been killed in his attempt to dethrone the king of Centos.

The stories of my father, his brother, who had been struck down in our own front yard as my mother hid in the garden, pregnant with me and stifling her screams.

The way we’d been forced to skulk in the shadows, always on the run from the vengeance of a man I’d never met. I’d never had a real home, never felt safe or secure except in my mother’s arms.

Then, the news of my mother’s disappearance at sea and the knowledge that I would be responsible for Sharlyne.

The way the great port of Gahair had crumbled into disarray and lawlessness when I returned from training.

Watching as Nyah faded before my eyes, the words “I love you” lingering in the air while I could do nothing to stop her disappearance.

All the training, all the fighting, all the years of closing myself off, and when it mattered most, I was always helpless. Had I really been delusional enough to think I could kill them and take over the throne? That I would be better somehow?

I couldn’t even protect those I loved.

“Well, Princess, I trust you had an adventure good enough to last a lifetime,” Rufus was talking to the illusion who stared blankly ahead, a collar fixed on her throat. As I glanced around, I found collars around all of my companions’ throats. Rufus jerked his head, and one of his men held up another one, open and ready to be snapped around my neck.