My heart sank as I stared at the hovering chair. “You’re not a killer, Jerroth.”
“I don’t need to kill you to stop you.”
The chair sped toward me, but it was more a warning than an attack. I had plenty of time to raise a shield of fire. Ash rained upon my upraised arm. Other chairs rose, and I became the Adara in my vision. My shield consumed half the chairs that sped toward me, and I calmly took out others with quick fireballs. Then the table beside me shuddered—I flung fire toward it just as the book upon it rose, arced behind me, and struck my back. I fell forward, toward my own shield spell. My hair, my shirt, my breeches, all caught fire, and I spent a precious second sucking the heat out to extinguish the flames.
I took the heat I’d snatched and hurled it his way—but Jerroth had moved and a portrait burst into flame instead. The book struck me again and I batted it away. As I did, a tapestry ripped from the wall above me. Cloth enveloped me and wrestled me to the floor.
I pushed with my hands, I pushed with Telekinesis. The fabric tightened until it pinched my arms to my sides.
Fire will burn me. My Telekinesis is weak. Lightning, Air—All the spells I knew were either lethal or clumsy or just as dangerous to myself. Illusion, useless. I couldn’t see him; I couldn’t see anything.
Footsteps. I rolled just enough to take the blow of something heavy on my left shoulder instead of full-on. My fingertips numbed.
If I can’t face Jerroth, I have no prayer of facing Thorkel. I rolled again, and something shattered—the decanter?—beside me.
“Stay still!”
The tapestry pressed against my feet, pinning me. I squirmed anyway, and my fingers brushed against the dagger I’d taken from the guard back at Thorkel’s mansion.
Wood creaked above me. My fingers fumbled on the hilt. I moved my fingers faster, slid out the blade, caught the hilt—
“You’ll see, this is the only way,” came Jerroth’s muffled voice. “Thorkel is the best option we have.”
If Thorkel used magic to propel spears, I can do something similar. I filled my hand with air, coiled it tight, and released the dagger in the direction of Jerroth’s voice.
The tapestry went limp.
I kicked away the fabric, raising an Air shield at the same time. No need. Jerroth hunched with the dagger in his gut.
“Jerroth?” I hoped it wouldn’t kill him. “Stay still and leave the dagger there. I can have Merram send for—”
Jerroth’s hand shot up, and a column of black fire rippled toward me. It tore through my shield and I reacted with a column of raw Gift. The two shafts collided, the air shuddered, and magics clawed at each other. I shunted my Gift through the sapphire, but my side only shifted a little. I couldn’t fight effectively without knowing what he had cast. How did he keep the spell going while in pain?
“Drop it,” Jerroth grunted. “If you go in there, Thorkel may turn on you. Let me save your life.”
“A life of what? I won’t be a captive princess while my father destroys Drageria.” I shoved. The flames didn’t shift. I needed something else. We stood perpendicular to the doors, Jerroth close to the foyer and I to the study. If I dropped the spell and lunged, could I dive through the study door before Jerroth recovered?
The foyer door opened and the distraction cost me a hand’s-breadth. Tressa entered with a yawn, a lacy gloved hand to her mouth. “There is nothing happening out there. The dragons are the only ones—you. How did you even—Jerroth, kill her before she ruins everything.”
His jaw tightened. “Thorkel wants her alive.”
She walked over to him, hips swinging. “If she lives, Thorkel will make her queen. Once more you’ll be overlooked. Thorkel will honor a dirt-raised ingrate instead of the man who risked everything for him.”
“Don’t let her touch you!” I exclaimed. The spell shifted an entire foot. My way.
It was too late.
Tressa gripped Jerroth’s shoulder. Her knuckles turned white under the lace. “You are the reason her precious dragons are dying out there. She will not forget that. Once she is queen, she will do everything in her power to ruin you, a mere Dragonmaster, and then she will seek revenge on me.”
The feel of Jerroth’s magic changed. I hadn’t even known it had a texture until it prickled painfully against my own.
“Tressa’s using magic right now,” I cried. “Can’t you feel it? She’s playing on your fears—”
“I love you, Jerroth,” Tressa said with a voice of honey. “I want the world to see what I see, a man strong and righteous, who is willing to do what is necessary for Drageria and for me. Do not let her take you from me.”
Jerroth’s fire took on a strange sheen. It shifted once more my way. Panic ran down my spine as the columns shifted again. Over half my defense had been consumed. Tressa raised her hand and a globe dripping red sparks appeared above her palm. Perfect red lips blew me a kiss.
Shamino appeared in the foyer’s doorway behind Jerroth and Tressa.
As soon as I saw Shamino, my flames shook. Tressa laughed and threw the red sparks. Somehow Shamino took everything in; the spells, Tressa’s hand on Jerroth, my panic.
He lowered his shoulder and slammed into Tressa’s back.
Her grip on Jerroth broke as she hurtled forward. Red, blue, and black magics swirled together, the colors refusing to mix. Tressa fell into the center. I cast the strongest shield I could, flame and air and magic, and I flung it across the room over Shamino. I made one for me just as the spells exploded.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I woke bruised and splayed on the floor. My head buzzed, and my vision swam with color. I blinked, pushing
