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The bookstore was hot, the fire only continuing to rage. There was so much for it to consume, and it hurt her heart to consciously think about the loss, but Amund needed to be her priority. She extended her oxygen feeder a bit when the air she was funneling in started tasting smoky again. Something heavy crashed just around the corner, and she was sure it was a bookcase, laden down with tomes and novels she herself had hoped to read one day.
Her net snagged on something. It was in the back, probably where the office was.Of course.He surely had valuables in there he’d wanted to save.
Rochelle dragged in a breath and bolted forward, grabbing the nearest bits of flame and pushing them away from her to help keep an escape path clear. She could possibly have tried manhandling the entire fire, but she’d never tried anything that big before. With a life on the line, she wasn’t confident it wouldn’t backfire.
“Amund!” Her voice cracked as the smoke choked her. She could barely see through the thick, dark plumes that hadn’t escaped the building. In a twisted way, it would have been very helpful to blow the entire roof off. “Amund!”
The office door was open and, of course, more snarling fire consumed walls and furniture inside the office, too. He was there, according to her scan, and after a few seconds she was able to see him.
Amund was collapsed on the floor, his clothes burning, one hand clutching something she could barely see. She was close enough now to tell he was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for long at this rate.
Rochelle dropped to her knees beside him. She knew the concept of healing magic, but since practicing it had required someone needing healing, she hadn’t exactly had the opportunity.
I have to at least do something about these flames.
If she could put out the fire, maybe funnel away the smoke, perhaps that would be enough to keep him alive until a healer arrived.
The roof cracked overhead and she glanced up. Putting out the flames meant more than just dealing with the ones actively searing her employer’s clothes and skin. The building was about to give way and drop more fire over both of them.
She remembered, suddenly, standing across from an enraged Cecilia and staring down a magical firestorm. She recalled the fear that had gripped her and the way her magic had responded by ripping apart the object of that fear.
Her only hope now was to control that power, to deliberately destroy exactly what threatened her and the man she wanted to save.
Rochelle pushed out a slow, raspy breath and reached over, laying a hand gently on Amund’s nearest shoulder. The first thing she did was wrap him in her slowly fracturing barrier. The fire already on him immediately released a screeching sizzle, more smoke pouring into the air and making her choke. She closed her eyes as the first piece of ceiling drifted down in her peripheral vision, burning like the embers of a campfire.
As much as it frightened her, she forced herself to switch tactics and extended her focus to the flame. She honed in on the roaring, snapping, crackling fire that surrounded them. She let her magic touch it, reaching from the office through the rest of the building, up to the roof and across to the opposite edge. Her breathing became labored, and she felt her watery barrier falter, but that was okay. She had it.
The roof overhead made another ominous cracking noise, so she pulled.
The fire dissolved like dust in the wind, and in the space of two heartbeats she found herself deaf and oddly cold. The smoke still surrounded them, choking her, and Amund still needed healing.
Then the roof gave in and crumbled on top of them.
****
“Have you made any progress, Aric?” Jensen’s tone was unusually irritated as the question rang across the throne room.
Aric fought to keep his expression neutral. “I’m afraid my answer hasn’t changed,” he said. “Re-arresting Harald and Lennart Lamont will only lend credence to their claims. They are the distraction, Your Majesty. The true problem we face is hiding elsewhere.”
Jensen curled a fist over the arm of his ornate chair. “And why have you not found this problem? Why have you consistently refused to present it to me, Aric? I cannot help but question when you deny me explanations.”
This had become the source of their conflict in the past several weeks. Supposedly the Elder Prince was traveling in an effort to reinstate the people’s belief in their monarchy, but Aric found the timing rather convenient. The Prince was unreachable as soon as Aric had decided he was willing to openly confront him. Because the one thing Aric could not do was chase after Prince Denham without fueling this uprising unrest—an unrest Aric didn’t doubt for a moment that Denham himself was behind.
None of which Aric could say, of course, because to accuse the Elder Prince without solid proof would be the end of him. And there was still something else he needed to do. So he swallowed his pride and said, “I want nothing more than to tell you everything, my King. But currently most of what I’m working with is theoretical. Until I can provide irrefutable proof, I humbly ask you to continue to place your trust in me. I will solve this, and I will do so as quickly as I am able.”
“So you think you’re doing me a favor by keeping me ignorant, is that it?”
“Plausible deniability,” Aric said. “Just in case something goes wrong, it’s better if the King can blame the Sentry with a clear conscience.” In a sense, that was even also a part of his job, he supposed. Be the final sacrifice if necessary. Though he had no interest in that sort of play.
King Jensen hummed audibly and drummed his beringed fingers on the armrest of his throne. Once. Twice. Three times. “My patience runs thin, Aric. But you have not yet betrayed my trust, so I will give you one more opportunity.” His fingers stilled and he raised his voice unnecessarily. It was a clear sign of his own agitation. “Hear me, Sentry. It is for the good of all Yafae that you find the true source of these outrageous rumors which plague our people, and crush it. Do what you must. Just be sure there can be no doubt of their guilt when you are done.” His dark brown eyes narrowed. “You have one lunar cycle from this day to complete your task. Report to me again at that time, and at that time, I will pass my judgment accordingly.”
Aric lowered his head in submission. As well as to keep his own irritation from showing.One more month.On the surface it was probably plenty, but he’d been hunting Denham for longer than two already. He’d never had a foe evade him for so long. “As you wish, King Jensen.” He held still for another second, then stood and took his leave.
He was going to have to take a more aggressive approach if he wanted to flush Denham and Cecilia out of wherever they’d disappeared to. Although he suspected they were on the move, and a moving target always was harder to hit.
His contacts scattered across Yafae swore they hadn’t seen Cecilia—he couldn’t exactly openly ask about the Prince—but then, could he even trust what they’d told him? How effective was this lying skill when they used it together? At this point, he had to assume his theory about Denham being her mentor was accurate. He couldn’t think of any other reason or way they’d have made a connection.
“Tinsley,” Aric called as the mansion settled around him. He had no time to waste.
