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I don’t see a portal.
Instead, I see the man who burned the canyon. He’s staring directly at us, and his hands are raised.
“Alindra!” the man thunders.
Fire explodes from his palms. I open my mouth, begin to form the wordno, when something closes around my wrist like an iron manacle.
And my magic is ripped from my body.
I sink to my knees. Agony sears my muscles, tears the breath from my lungs, and chars the very inside of my bones. I feel like something deep inside of me is being crushed beneath the black heel of a polished leather boot.
Dad, I think. No. Please, not again.
Then the pain is gone, vanishing as suddenly as it appeared. I gasp, but a hand stops my mouth. Tears flood my vision, blurring the ashy ground. Somewhere, someone is screaming.
Someone is screaming a name.
I blink, trying to drag the colors and flashes of light surrounding me back into a coherent world. There’s a hand over my face, holding my mouth closed. I trace the curve of that arm, the path of dark skin, into the folds of Alindra’s cloak. Up to her fierce, scowling eyes. To her outstretched hand.
To the enormous bubble of magic surrounding us.
Heat washes over me, pulling my skin tight. Heat, but not fire. Flames dance around Alindra’s bubble of magic, curling in the air, hissing just above my head. As soon as I make sense of it, the flames vanish. There’s another scream, followed by frantic footsteps beating against the ground. I twist my head slightly, tracking the footsteps.
And I see myself. It’s an illusion, of course, but voids, it’s so realistic that for a heartbeat I think I’ve died and I’m watching my own mortal body. My back, my hair fluttering in the wind, my legs beneath the stolen white uniform Alindra gave me last night that’s now smeared with ash.
But it’s not my body, is it? Because the body that’s standing in front of me has two arms.
And it’s holding an illusion of Alindra, his hand wrapped around her right arm. I blink, and the illusion of me spins on his heels, tugging the illusion of Alindra toward what’s left of the bushes choking the entrance of the canyon.
I blink as the illusions vanish into the brush, followed by another explosion of flames.
“Alindra!” the man bellows. “Stop in the name of King Grathgore, you fucking whore!”
His voice shakes the ground beneath my knees. The man in black walks so close to the bubble of Alindra’s magic that I can smell him, rage and fire, magic and expensive cologne.
Alindra’s magic. My gaze drifts up to the bubble protecting us, to what has to be an actual, functional invisibility shield. I’ve never seen one before. I didn’t even think it was possible.
But it’s not Alindra's magic, is it? Magicians don’t have their own magic. This is my magic, ripped out of my body and transformed into something I could never create on my own. The back of my mouth tastes like blood. Something cold settles over my arm and legs as I reluctantly turn my gaze back to my own body.
My illusion arm is gone.
The right sleeve of this stolen uniform hangs limp and ragged at my side.
Chapter6
Alindra
WE AREN’T GOING TO MAKE IT
Ihold my breath and freeze, every muscle screaming in protest, magic burning as it pulses beneath my fingertips. If I could stop my own heart, I’d do it.
Malron’s back stiffens. His nostrils flare. Then, slowly, he turns toward us.
Oh, stars, no. Malron steps closer, toward the invisibility shield I’ve just thrown into the air using Phaedron’s magic. My muscles howl, and my chest feels like it’s caught in a vice.
Never take someone’s magic without asking. Never, ever steal. That’s one of my first memories, something I learned even before I could write my own name in rough, jagged letters. You never pull magic from someone else’s body. Magicians have hung from the walls of King Grathgore’s palace for that offense.
My vision blurs from the effort of channeling Phaedron’s magic into the shield keeping us hidden. Stars above, my mind screams as smoke bites the inside of my throat and sweat rolls down the back of my neck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but what choice did I have?
