The clang of metal against metal crashed through the air. Swords.
Audric.
Frantic, Rielle searched through her dimming vision for a weapon of her own, something one of the Borsvall men had dropped. Even a rock would do.
Oh, God help her, her poor horse.
What had she done?
She wiped her bleeding palms on her shirt. The earth still vibrated, as though an army ten thousand strong was marching on the capital.
“Stop it,” she whispered, for she knew it was all her doing—the horse, the falling rocks, the rifts in the earth.
She had lost control, after everything Tal and her father had tried to teach her. She’d only wanted to show them she could be trusted, that she deserved a life outside the temple and her own lonely rooms.
And now her father would hate her even more deeply than he already did.
Everyone on the course had seen.
What was she?
She slammed her hands into the ground, heedless of pain. “Stop it!”
A roar, a swift burst of wind. Suddenly everything was hot.
She heard the distant sounds of screams from the race grounds. Someone was speaking over the amplifier.
She looked up.
Her crawling had brought her to the highest point of the pass. In front of her lay a downward slope, then the Flats. The finish line, spectator boxes clustered around it. The capital—the roofs of the seven temples and of Baingarde, the king’s castle, gleaming in the sun.
Twin trails of fire stretched from her hands down toward the city like long, hungry tongues.
Rielle staggered to her feet, exhaustion rocking her. Audric shouted in warning. Rielle turned to see one of the remaining Borsvall men approaching, his sword raised, fire crackling along the blade. His eyes were wide and white, his face drawn. This assassin, this firebrand with his flaming sword, was afraid of her.
She dropped again and rolled; his sword whistled through the air where she had been standing. Fire singed her hair. Smoke stung her nostrils.
Audric leapt in front of her, a glowing dagger in each hand.
Rielle felt faint with relief. He’d snuck in weapons after all.
Audric’s face was hard with rage. When the assassin’s fiery sword crashed into his sunlit daggers, the blow hurt Rielle’s teeth. Sparks flew. Flames spit near Audric’s face as the firebrand’s sword bore down on him. But he did not waver. He stood strong before Rielle, the daggers throwing sunlight across the ground. He roared and lunged at the assassin, dislodging his sword. Twin orbs of sunlight burst from his crossed daggers and knocked the assassin to the ground. The assassin pushed himself back to his feet, his face and arms burned, and raced at Audric with a desperate, guttural cry.
Rielle’s head rang with each clash of their blades; she clamped her hands around her skull. She had to hold herself together. If she couldn’t stop her fire, the city would burn.
Audric met each of the other man’s strikes with his own. His daggers sang; the air shuddered with heat. He wove back and forth, evading a killing thrust. Spun around, hurled a shield of light from his daggers, ran the blinded man through in the gut. The assassin fell, his sword abruptly snuffed out. Another assassin approached. Audric whirled, caught the second man’s blade between his own. This one was a windsinger, the wind gusting and howling around him. It spiraled off his sword like an army of storms and nearly knocked Audric off his feet.
Their swords flashed, but even Audric had his limits. This second assassin was a boar of a man. If only Audric had Illumenor—
“Run, Rielle!” Audric shouted, curls plastered to his brow. He shoved his attacker, ducked a wild thrust of the man’s sword.
Rielle looked around, saw a glint of metal in the dirt: a fallen dagger, its hilt engraved with the crest of the Borsvall royal family—a dragon flying over a mountain.
Gathering her last strength, Rielle grabbed the dagger and lurched to her feet. Her legs nearly buckled; her vision dimmed. She pushed past the pain careening through her body and leapt, and the blade found its way home in the Borsvall man’s throat.
Rielle watched the man drop, felt his summoned wind disappear as he drew his last breath. The world was a faint buzz around her.
She watched the wildfire race down the slope toward the city, igniting every blade of grass it touched.
Stop, she thought. Please, stop it. Don’t hurt them. She reached for the fire with what remained of her ravaged control, tried to pull the inferno back to her, but darkness flooded her vision.
Maybe she hadn’t caused the fire after all. Maybe this was a terrible dream. She would wake on the morning of the race. Ludivine would help her sneak away from Tal’s office. They had it all planned out.