ALTAN SEEMED MORE TAKEN ABACK THAN ANGRY.
I pushed myself to my feet; the chair clattered to the floor behind me. “I will not help those who harm my friends, or seek to use me, or speak pretty words only when it suits them.” My whole body tensed. These were statements I could never take back, and Altan would never forget. “Nor will I help those who harm others to further their cause. You call yourself a protector of the Fallen Isles. You call yourself a Drakon Warrior, but you are neither. You would tear apart the islands if you thought it was the only way to save everyone from the Algotti Empire, but you’re wrong.”
Altan hit me.
The baton whipped out of his belt and came flying at me so fast I couldn’t move out of the way.
Metal struck my shoulder and numbness rang through my arm.
I screamed and staggered back, clutching my shoulder. Hot pain surged up and blinded me. For a heartbeat, my whole body seemed out of my control, and when my vision cleared, I was on the floor. My knees ached where they’d hit the stone, and one of my ankles throbbed where it was twisted beneath me.
I’d fainted. It had just been a moment, but even that much was terrifying, especially since Altan loomed over me, his baton drawn back.
But he didn’t bring it down. Not again.
Not yet.
“You will not speak to me that way.” His voice was deadly cool, his eyes hard and narrowed. “Never forget that you are a prisoner here, and I control your fate.”
Everyone thought they controlled me. My parents. The Luminary Council. The Twilight Senate. The warriors. But I was done being used. If my trip to Bopha had taught me anything, it was that I was in control of me. No matter how much others insisted, they did not direct my arms and legs. They did not determine what words came out of my mouth. The only reason they’d succeeded for so long was because I’d let them—because I’d never realized that I had the strength to stop them.
I knew better now.
“You’re a worm,” I said. “Utterly deplorable. You grab for power because you have none of your own. Because you’ve let yours be taken from you.”
The baton came down, aimed for my head, but I blocked it with my arm—the one with the hurt shoulder. My bones shuddered under the impact and I wanted to curl into a ball and hide. But this was the moment. I had to seize it now.
“You hurt others because you are hurt. Because even with all your training, you haven’t gotten what you wanted, and you think you can just take it from others.” My whole body shook with adrenaline, as if the memory of noorestone energy remained in this room and flooded into me.
“You don’t know anything about me.” Altan raised the baton to hit again, but I rolled out of the way and—miraculously—found my feet.
“I know you desperately want to be important.” I gripped the table with my good hand, leaning hard against the smooth wood. With my aching knees and my twisted ankle, standing was much harder than it had been two minutes ago. “But you were second to Gerel as a trainee, and you are nothing now.”
Even as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I knew I should at least consider watching my tongue. But all my life, I’d been speaking other people’s words at their convenience, and not nearly enough of my own. These words—right or wrong, brave or foolish—were mine. I owned them.
Altan roared and ran at me with his baton lifted high.
I gathered my strength and stepped aside, struggling to keep my feet through the throbbing pain. “Are you going to club me to death?” I rasped. “Is that your great plan to win me to your side?”
His knuckles paled around the baton. “I don’t need you on my side. The offer was courtesy only.”
“Courtesy for a prisoner?” I scoffed, drawing on every time I’d needed to be haughty and aloof at a party. “No, you wouldn’t have offered if you didn’t still need me. If you didn’t think there was something I could give to you.”
One side of his mouth pulled up into a deadly smile. “I said the offer was courtesy. I didn’t say you had a choice.”
The darkness in his expression gave me pause.
My friends.
He still had them.
“You’ll help me whether you want to or not,” he said. “If I’ve discovered one thing about you, it’s that you cannot stand to see people get hurt. And I have everyone you care about right here. Your best friend. Your protector. The girl who hates you. The girl who pretends to like you. The girl who ignores you. And that boy you admire so much. Do you think he admires you too?”
No.
“You should have seen your face when you realized he saw your cheek. You looked so upset. I almost felt bad.” He advanced on me.
There was nowhere to go. He was between the door and me, and he was not limping on two sore knees and a twisted ankle.
“But you should have been more worried about what I’d do to him than what he’d think about your face. I don’t know how the noorestones exploded before, but I know that one of you must be behind it. If you think I’ve forgotten about you murdering three people, you’re wrong.”
“You brought the noorestones in,” I said. “You called for more. You’re the only one responsible for what happened.”
Altan drew back the baton, but I wasn’t done.
“You’re the one who decided to torture Aaru. You’re the one who brought him in here in the first place.” I stopped myself before revealing too much—that it was Aaru who’d silenced the room, shattering the noorestones in the process. “There was no reason to bring him here. You only took him, too, because you’re a terrible person who enjoys watching people get hurt.”
“Just prisoners like you.” The baton crashed into the chair I’d been occupying. One of the legs snapped off and clattered across the floor. “And like that boy. You both deserve the pain I inflict.”
Common sense told me to retreat, but to where? He blocked the only exit, and there was nothing in here but one table, one broken chair, one whole chair, and twenty noorestones.
In vain, I wished for Aaru’s power. I’d turn the room black and run out. But I couldn’t. I was just me. Giftless Mira.
“You’re responsible for those deaths.” Dangerous words. Deadly words. “You brought Rosa and the trainees in here. You told them to fetch another noorestone. You are the reason they’re dead.”
Altan hurled the baton.
I managed to dodge, mostly; the blow aimed for my head clipped my hurt shoulder instead. Shocks of pain traveled through my arm and collarbone, but I gritted my teeth and dived for the weapon, pushing off with my sore foot.
My nemesis swore and ran for it, too, but I was closer. I threw myself onto the floor and grabbed the top of the baton, half feeling the memory of heat from its many impacts with me. I clutched the weapon, suddenly not sure what I thought I could do with it. Did I really think I could hurt him? Even if I was physically capable—
Altan was right behind me.
I took the handle, rolled onto my rear, and thrust the baton forward as though it were a long knife. It jabbed Altan in the chest, right on his breastbone, and slid up to his throat and caught him on the underside of his jaw.
He gagged and recoiled, one hand flying to his throat, the other grasping for the baton.
I gripped the baton with all my might, but I wasn’t strong enough to keep it from him, so when he pulled with enough strength to rip it from my hands, I let go.
Altan tumbled backward, but kept his grip on the baton, even as he scrambled to his feet.
All the self-defense lessons I’d ever taken fluttered through my mind, but only one stood out for this moment: run, and let Hristo protect me.
But Hristo was locked in his cell. He wasn’t going to rescue me.
I’d never been taught what to do if Hristo couldn’t come for me, or how I should go about rescuing my protector.
“What are you doing, Failure?” Altan seemed amused, almost. “Are you trying to get hurt?”
On my feet again, I dashed for the broken chair and took up the leg, though it was no real defense against the metal of Altan’s baton.
This was the stupidest thing I’d ever done. Still, I was committed. I’d inflicted enough damage to my relationship with Altan that it would never recover. My friends and I would never be safe after this.
Altan tapped the baton on his thigh. “Don’t be foolish. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“All you do is hurt people. Remember Rosa? Those trainees?” It was mean to throw that in his face again, but I needed to keep him off-balance—if not physically, then emotionally. “Wasn’t it just over there that they died?” I waved my broken chair leg toward the back of the room, where three people had lain dead on the floor.
When he followed my gesture, a fractured look crossing his face, I checked my position to the door. Finally, I was closer—but not for long. He came at me with his baton drawn back, ready to slam into my already sore left side.
I darted away and threw the chair leg with all my might; it thunked against Altan’s chest, useless. Still, I had to try. I had to commit if I wanted to survive.
That meant I needed a weapon.
Any weapon.
I retreated to the nearest wall and snatched a noorestone from the sconce.
“What are you going to do with that?” A sinister grin touched Altan’s mouth. “Burn me, like I burned your friend? I wonder what they’re all doing now. Probably trying to calm the dragon while she spits fire into their cells.”
Bile raced up my throat, because I could too easily imagine that.
But Altan was a warrior, trained to defend against the attacks his opponents threw at him. That meant every time I reminded him about Rosa, he’d hold my friends over my head.
“I’m going to stab you with it,” I said. “Right through the eye.”
“You’d never dare.”
The glowing crystal was cool in my hand, cut into a long, dagger-like shape with six major facets, and six minor at each end where they tapered into sharp points. A thrum of power surged through the stone, echoing through my hand, and the glow dimmed.
Altan’s gaze cut to the noorestone. “What did you do?”
Nothing. I’d touched noorestones hundreds of times before—just like anyone else—and this had never happened. This one was probably just old, nearly extinguished, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I smiled, like I’d dimmed the crystal intentionally. “Get Kelsine away from my friends.”
Another pulse rushed through my hand. Three, four, five. It matched my heartbeat, speeding ever faster, and I wasn’t sure how to stop it. Not without dropping the crystal, and right now it was my only weapon. A mighty weapon, maybe. With every beat came this swell of energy, making me stronger in unnameable ways.
“What are you doing?” Altan hadn’t exactly lowered his baton, but he watched me with more caution now. Girls who dimmed noorestones might be dangerous.
“Subdue the dragon,” I said, advancing. It was an act—a show of courage where there was none. “Do it, and I’ll let you live.”
That was, perhaps, too much. Altan saw through my veil of bravery and rushed me with his baton.
I ducked to the side, and the metal struck the wall behind me with a loud clang. Then, without my instruction, my fist clutching the noorestone flew at him, and the knifelike crystal pierced his side.
Power sang through me, making light flare through my vision—so bright I had to blink. When my eyes cleared, all I saw was Altan’s face, ruddy and twisted with pain. Sweat gushed down his body as he dropped to the floor.
The noorestone went dark.
Altan was breathing, bleeding heavily, but unconscious.
I stared down at the depleted noorestone. What had happened? How?
A gasp sounded from the doorway, and I looked up, heart pounding.
Tirta stood there, her eyes round with surprise. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know.” Flames rippled up my arm, red and blue and white coils. But they didn’t hurt me. Burn me. Instead, it seemed like they were part of me. One by one, the flames vanished and my limbs were just my limbs again. My heartbeat slowed to a normal speed.
“Well.” She glared hatefully at my nemesis on the floor. “Let’s do something about that. You should kill him.”