Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(86)

“I haven’t decided,” I say as I walk, trying not to blink too much, trying not to show that I’m lying. “Let me talk to Graylin and see what he thinks. I’ll let you know …”

My stream of babble dries up, because the Silver Prince moves into my path. Blocking my way out. I wish I could call back to Brekken and draw strength from his voice, but I don’t dare.

“I don’t savor the idea of putting how we deal with the soldier in the hands of another Fiorden,” the Prince says.

His tone is still light, conversational, but his eyes cut through me. I feel naked, like he can see through my skin and flesh straight to all my weakness and lies.

But I lift my chin, thinking of Brekken and Taya hidden down the tunnel behind me. If I fail in this, what will happen to them?

“Willow, then,” I say. “Is that acceptable?”

The Prince laughs, a cruel sound. “A woman rotting away here for so long she doesn’t remember what it is to be Byrnisian? No, I don’t think so.”

The hostility in his voice is less disguised now. That can’t be good. I let the hurt I feel show on my face, so that the rage doesn’t peek through. If I can’t talk my way around him, maybe I can get him to dismiss me. Convince him that I really am the child out of my depth that he apparently thinks I am.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say softly, and it’s not difficult to let the edge of tears in. “I need to talk to Graylin and Willow.”

I take a step forward, but the Prince doesn’t move out of my way.

“Excuse me,” I say, holding the Silver Prince’s gaze. Willing my eyes to communicate: I am still the Innkeeper. Let me pass.

“Madeline,” he says, a smile on his face that doesn’t make it to his voice. “You must know I can’t let you leave.”

Panic blankets my mind in cold, white fog. I try to dart forward, but two of the guards grab my arms, holding me tight enough to bruise. I kick and yank at them, but it’s immediately clear it’s no use.

“Carve another cell,” the Prince says to the guard to his right. “Throw her in—”

But then I hear the clang of metal behind me, and Brekken is out and on the Silver Prince like a whirlwind.

I’ve never seen him fight before, and it’s transfixing.

Broken glass—the lantern?—flashes in his hands as the Silver Prince’s sword comes out. Brekken swings away from him at the last moment, though, pivoting in an instant toward me and the guards.

They’re caught by surprise—blood flashes; someone cries out. Abruptly, the grip on my arms is gone and I drop, lunging out of the way as Brekken pulls one of their swords from its hilt and spins around, getting in between me and them.

“Maddie, run!” he yells, but the Silver Prince is stalking toward me, murder in his eyes.

Then I see something from the other end of the tunnel, something that makes me freeze with instinctive fear.

Taya in monster form is quick and fluid as blue fire. She bursts into the light and leaps clear over Brekken and the guards, over me, going for the Silver Prince. Her claws catch on his shoulder and he bends backward, the two remaining guards leaping out of the way. One runs for the juncture; one lunges at Taya and gets a slashed thigh for his trouble. He goes down, but then the Silver Prince is rounding on her with his sword. Taya snarls and raises a blue paw, catching the blade on her claws. Sparks light up the dark.

The spoon is lifeless, dead in my hands. Nothing happens when I try to call on the wind again. But then I remember I have more magic. The bracelet I found in the abandoned Solarian closet. It sits heavy on my wrist, but when I close my eyes and concentrate, I can feel the magic, a subtle current, but alive and dangerous.

I don’t know what kind of magic lives inside it. But I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and will it to come loose.

Heat and light burst all around me. I open my eyes to see flames exploding outward from my palms. For a heartbeat, everyone stops fighting. Brekken, Taya, the Silver Prince, and the three guards, our seven faces made demonic by the fiery light.

Brekken leaps out of the fire’s path, light as a fox, but the guard after him isn’t so lucky. As he lunges for Brekken, the fire swarms up over him like a living thing and he goes down screaming. Horror freezes my mind.

Then the Silver Prince cries out a word in a language I don’t understand. He raises his hands toward the ceiling, sweat dripping from his temples.

Rain materializes out of nowhere at the other end of the hallway and blasts into my face. It doesn’t kill the fire, but steam fills the hall with a hiss. I reach out, trying to find the wall, when the rain hardens into hail. The impact, a million little blows on my skin, makes me lose focus and the fire dries up. I cry out, whirl around, and throw an arm in front of my eyes, but that’s no respite. The rain beats down on my bare shoulders, cutting through my thin cami. The water collects, white, on the stone floor. It forces me to step back toward the juncture.

A high war cry cuts through the fog, and a moment later Brekken barrels out, a broken-ended iron rod in his hands like a crowbar.

Adrenaline and hope drive me, making my limbs move seemingly of their own accord. Shielding my eyes with one hand, I stand and face the Prince through the steam.

Flames spring from my outstretched fist, lapping the juncture and bathing us all in greenish-blue light. I see Brekken kneecapping a guard in one smooth motion, sending him down. Taya fights the Prince in the background, trying to drive him toward my flame. My heart thunders in my ears; it takes all my will to keep the flames up, but I do. Somewhere deep below all the fear, my heart thrills at it. Magic.