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Please.
No one answers. But a tingle spreads down through my lungs as if ephemeral fingers have brushed over them with the lightest touch.
I might have imagined it, but it’s all I’ve got. There’s no time left.
There’s a rustle as Wendos swings his arm wildly, and I release my grip on my magic.
Forty
My power roars out of me, smacking into the daimon pinning me down. They scatter like puffs of cloud.
The full force of my intent rams into the figure I can’t even see where he’s poised by the railing.
Through the magic streaming from the fissures in my soul, I feel Wendos jerk and spasm. Taste the powerhewas wielding slip from his fingers as mine devours his will and awareness.
For the space of a heartbeat, rage wells up alongside my power.
He had Julita killed—he would have happily murdered me too. He sent those poor scourge sacrifices to their deaths.
Who knows how many other innocents he’s already slaughtered or meant to in his sick quest… for what?
A growl of fury passes over my lips. My power wraps around him—
And I remember.
I remember the man who attacked me seven years ago, the second and until yesterday last time I unleashed my magic. How my gut knotted when I stared down at his slumped corpse and the destruction spiraling out around it.
I remember that Wendos is only the beginning of the conspiracy, not the end. There’s so much more we need to unravel if anyone’s going to be safe.
With a gasp, I snatch at the power rushing out of me. I heave all the control I can summon into yanking the magic back, reining it in like it’s a stallion I have to tame.
Just stop him. Just stop him—don’t shatter him completely.
A giddy warmth spreads through my limbs and across my chest. I sense Wendos’s body crumpling.
I haul every shred of power I can catch back into me.
That’s enough. That’s enough, for now.
Gods above, let it be enough forever.
As the torrent of magic contracts, I shove myself onto my feet—and realize that I can stand without agony. Some of the damage I inflicted on Wendos must have bounced back the opposite effect into me.
The scratch on my chest has healed, my gown’s bodice and the ripped chemise beneath drooping open between my breasts over smooth skin. My shin is solid.
I jerk up my head and freeze.
All across the walls of the tower, vines have sprouted. Slim, green tendrils unfurl from notches and cracks. They spread vibrant green leaves to the last hazy glow of the setting sun.
More twine together across the gap in the staircase, forming a woven ramp to seal the hole.
I dealt out harm, and I conjured new growth. And not a growth that’s going to hurt anyone—not like last time.
A laugh hitches out of my throat, and I press my hand to my mouth.
I scramble to the edge of the collapsed staircase and tread more carefully onto the ramp of vines. It holds my weight with only a slight give.
No more distant rumbles or shrieks reach my ears. The tower doesn’t shake again. The thrum of unsettling magic has vanished.
