Oliver sighed. “No, I don’t think it is.”

I kept a tight rein on myself, refusing to give in to panic. We would find a way out of here. Or someone would come looking for us.

I bit my lip. Actually, on second thought, perhaps best not to rely on that possibility.

I realized with a start that I was pressed up against Oliver, one hand on the fallen rock, but the other still grasping his shoulder. I stepped back quickly, an unaccustomed flush stealing up my cheeks. At least he couldn’t see it in the dark.

“Do you think…” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Do you think we should go and fetch a lantern at least?”

Oliver didn’t say anything, but he started to move, returning the way we had come from the sound of it. We trekked in silence, the darkness lightening as we approached the first lit lantern. He detached it from the wall, and we turned to walk back the same path.

It looked exactly as we had expected. The tunnel, narrower than many we had traveled, was completely blocked by the fallen stones. It was actually a wonder we hadn’t tripped over any of the loose ones as we had run this way in the dark.

“Well, I can’t see us digging through that,” said Oliver matter-of-factly.

Reluctantly I had to agree with him, and a small spark of fear lodged in my gut. I pushed it down.

“I suppose we’ll have to see what we can find in the other direction, then,” I said.

He nodded, and once again we traipsed back along the now well-worn path in the other direction. As we walked I tried to think of options. I couldn’t see any way we could move those rocks on our own. So we had to hope this passage actually led somewhere.

Of course, if it did, it might not be somewhere we were too eager to go. Someone had changed the markings to direct us down here, after all…

“I’m so sorry, Celine.” Oliver’s words jerked me from my imaginings.

“For what?” I looked at him blankly.

“For leading us down here. I should have known better.” He grimaced. “I did know better. I should have trusted myself.”

I shrugged. “Don’t be silly. Why would you suspect that someone had changed the tunnel markings?”

“You’re very calm.”

“Would you prefer me to go into hysterics? I could probably manage it if you liked.”

He shook his head quickly. “Please—no hysterics.”

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never actually tried it, but I think I could do excellent hysterics. I have just the right flair for the dramatic.” I grinned. “Or so my family have always assured me.”

He glanced sideways at me. “I suppose if we disappear into the tunnels and never return, your family might send their army against Eldon. I can’t imagine what would happen to my kingdom if they do, given its current state.”

“Look who’s being dramatic now.” I kept my voice light despite my sense of disquiet. I didn’t want my kingdom getting involved with this strange place. Not until I’d worked out what was going on and could be sure the strange enchantment—whatever it was—wouldn’t spread.

We had walked for some distance before we discovered that my fears were unfounded. Well, one of my fears anyway. This hadn’t been a ploy to force us somewhere we didn’t want to be. The tunnel ended in a wall of solid rock.

Which, of course, meant something far worse. Someone didn’t want us to escape these tunnels alive.

“I was afraid of this,” said Oliver grimly. “There are dead end branches everywhere, although they’re all marked as such, of course. And they usually have fewer lanterns. Just enough to keep them from becoming dark pockets perfect for crime.” He crossed over to the wall to examine the lanterns there. “It looks like some of these have only been newly fixed. All part of the ploy, no doubt.”

I sighed. “And I don’t suppose you have any idea who would want to assassinate us?”

He shrugged helplessly. “No more idea than who is behind enchanting and destroying my kingdom.”

“Well.” I smiled. “When you put it that way, at least we can console ourselves that we likely don’t have any new enemies. And what’s a little assassination attempt against the enchantment and destruction of an entire kingdom?”

“I’m very reassured,” he said dryly.

Without talking about it, we both turned to walk back to the cave in. It seemed a slightly less hopeless situation than this solid rock wall.

Just as we reached it, Oliver tripped over one of the small rocks that had rolled forward from the cave in and dropped the lantern. With the smash of breaking glass, it went out, plunging us back into darkness.

I jumped, and the earlier spark of fear that had taken up residence inside me flared. Only it rushed all the way out of me, jumping from my fingertips as small tongues of flame.

I gasped, staring at my now illuminated hand for a brief second before they disappeared. Darkness and near silence returned—broken only by my panting breaths. I pressed my fingertips against my palms, but they felt cool now, and I could feel no burns.

“Celine,” Oliver whispered. “What was that?”

“Umm…I don’t know?”

“Uh uh, you’re not getting out of it that easily this time. What was that?”

I grimaced, but he couldn’t see me in the dark. “Can we at least fetch another lantern?”

“Do we need one? Maybe you could just light the way for us.” His voice sounded hard, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry or just intrigued.

I concentrated on my fingertips, but just like all the other times I had tried to do it consciously, nothing happened.

I sighed. “We definitely need a lantern.”

For a moment neither of us moved, and then I heard the crunch of Oliver’s boots against glass. “Stay here. I’ll get one and come back.”

I listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps, and then watched for a distant glow. It appeared quickly and grew rapidly as he jogged back toward me. When he stopped in front of me, I could see that his expression was one of interest overlaid with a deep wariness.

“All right, you’ve got your light. Now tell me what that was. Was it the same as what you did to me last night?”

I shrugged helplessly. “No. Yes. Maybe?”

He gave me an unimpressed look, and I couldn’t help a short laugh.

“In all honesty, I truly don’t have much more of an idea than you. This is all very new to me.” I quickly outlined my family’s experience with Christening gifts, and my encounter with my godmother at the twins’ wedding.

“I didn’t know what she meant at the time by the gift of fire. It was all very cryptic. I still don’t understand it exactly.”

“It seemed pretty literal to me.” Oliver’s voice sounded a little awed, and it made me uncomfortable.

“It’s been months since then, and this is the first flame I’ve seen,” I snapped before taking a deep breath and immediately feeling sorry for my tone. “Sorry. It’s just…I’ve never done that before. Flames out of my fingers is totally new for me.”

“Well, what have you done? Wait. That hot wind when we were attacked! That was you?”

Reluctantly I nodded. “That was the first time I suspected my godmother may not have been talking about some figurative light of perception, or something.”

“Hmmm…” He set the lantern carefully on the ground so he could pace back and forth in the tunnel. “That was a strong wind. Maybe even strong enough to dislodge some of these rocks.”

He looked and me hopefully, and I winced.

“Maybe. Unfortunately I haven’t managed to do anything on purpose yet. It doesn’t seem to like coming to my rescue.” I glared at my hands as if they were the cause of the problem.

Oliver paused in front of me. “So what does trigger it?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t been able to figure that out.” I looked at his expression. “Not for want of trying!” I snapped again, and he held up his hands placatingly.

“Maybe we can work it out together.” He gestured for me to sit, only to stop when he saw the smashed glass beneath our feet. Instead he led me over to the wall, and we sat side-by-side with our backs against it.

I leaned my head against the cool rock, closed my eyes and tried to think.

“It seems to be connected somehow with a sort of…warm feeling that just appears inside me.” I opened my eyes and waved vaguely toward my middle. “And sometimes that warmth just seems to shoot out of my hands. Only I don’t seem to be able to control when it comes, or when it flames outward, either.”

Oliver’s legs were propped up in front of him, his arms resting on his knees, his hands dangling as he gazed unseeing at the far side of the tunnel. Eventually he turned his head to look at me.

“Let’s go through it. What exactly was happening each time you got this warm feeling?”

I frowned as I tried to remember. “Well, as I said, the first time was when we were attacked. Only it wasn’t as soon as we were attacked.”

“It’s strange for me to remember the attack,” said Oliver. “The first part is hazy, and then suddenly it’s like the memories clear. But not as clear as my memories of this morning. The change came at the same time as the wind. When one of the men was attaching a lead rope to my horse…”

His words trailed off as he focused on my face. I could read the question in his eyes, and I hesitated to admit what my true feelings had been in that moment.

Except then I realized how he might interpret my hesitation, and annoyance filled me. It hadn’t been any great concern for him that had occupied my mind in that moment…

“I was watching from the carriage,” I said.

“I remember, I saw you just before my horse reared.”

“I was angry with you.” I said the words in a rush. “Angry that you were so passive…so calmly accepting of their control. I wanted you to fight them, to push them away. Only you didn’t. So I thrust out my own hands—in frustration more than anything—and then…”

“Oh…” He paused before recovering. “Perhaps anger is the key then. Were you feeling angry just before, with the flames?”

“Well…” I tried to think it through. “I mean I’m generally angry with whoever stuck us in here, I suppose. But in that specific moment I was more startled than anything. You’d just dropped the lantern, and it made such a smash.”

“If it was merely being startled, I would have expected that gale to strike as soon as we were attacked, though,” said Oliver, obviously having as little success puzzling it through as I had previously.

I thought about his words. “The warmth didn’t start until after the attack, though,” I said slowly. “And that bit seems to be consistent. The warmth comes first.”

“All right, so you were already feeling the warmth when I dropped the lantern. When did that start?”

I tried to pinpoint it in my memory. “I think it was when we first brought the lantern and saw the cave in. It was just a small spark at that point. And I think…I think it came with a feeling of fear.” I didn’t like to admit to being afraid, but we would never get to the bottom of this if I wasn’t honest.

“Well, surely you were afraid when we were attacked. Maybe fear is the key?”

I had already considered that possibility. But it didn’t fit with every instance when my new powers had manifested. I kept my head bowed, my eyes on my lap to hide the faint flush when I remembered the breeze which had rocked my table setting during the banquet. It certainly hadn’t been fear motivating me then. But I wasn’t about to mention it. Oliver didn’t seem to remember that occasion, and I had no desire to analyze my feelings in that instance with any depth. Certainly not with him, anyway.

I focused my thoughts back on the attack by Lord Treestone’s men.

“You know…” I said slowly, “…the warmth didn’t start when I felt the first stirrings of fear. First I felt fear, and then I looked at your sisters, and I felt…well, pity.” I glanced at him sideways, but he didn’t look offended, so I went on. “There just seemed to be something so clearly wrong with them that they had no reaction to a situation like that. And I felt this unexpected surge of intense pity accompanied by a warmth.” I nodded, the memory clearing in my mind. “Only then it became more like anger that none of you seemed concerned about me, either. And then when you did nothing while they tried to lead you away, it all sort of overwhelmed me.”

“Pity, anger, fear…Maybe it’s not about the specific emotion. Maybe it’s just about strong emotion.”

I considered his suggestion. “It did seem like the warmth grew as my emotions became fiercer.” I thought through the other instances. I still wasn’t willing to examine the examples in the banquet hall too closely, but the warmth that had begun growing then had only fully surged out afterward, in the hallway. And that part came easily to mind.

“I was certainly feeling frustrated and angry when I commanded you to wake up last night. I was so desperate for you to come out of whatever enchantment seemed to keep you in thrall. It was infuriating that you seemed to come out of it briefly only to fall back under again.”

He looked at me, really looked at me.

“Have I thanked you for that yet?” he asked, his voice soft. “That wind you sent through me on that first day dislodged it a little, but the fog came back again when we returned to the palace. I’m sure I would be back to my fully detached state again by now if you hadn’t freed me.”

I flushed a little. “I really don’t think I can claim credit.” I held my hands up in front of me and wiggled my fingers. “I don’t seem to be in control of what they do.”

“Maybe not, but I can’t believe it was coincidence that you touched me and commanded me to wake up, and I did. I think you might have more control than you realize. Or your emotions do, anyway.”

He stood up suddenly and reached down to pull me up as well. “Come on, then. Let’s give it a try.”

I stood up and joined him facing the fallen stones, but I couldn’t help glancing at him dubiously. “Try what exactly?”

“Whether strong emotion might bring out another gale force wind.” And with no further warning, he pulled me against him, one hand around my waist, and the other around my neck, and kissed me firmly on the mouth.