Pain and fear cloud his eyes. His flame can only shield so much.
I lunge, grabbing at his wrist. But the flamemaker bracelet holds firm.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
Fire pushes me back. I tumble end over end, shoulders and skull bouncing. The world spins, and dizzy limbs try to make me stand.
Get up. Get up. Get up.
“Stay down, Mare!” I hear from Cal’s direction. His figure dances before me, splitting into three. I might have a concussion. Red blood pulses across the white tile.
Get up. Get up. Get up.
My feet move beneath me, pushing hard. I stand too quickly, nearly falling over again as Samson forces me into drunken steps. He closes the distance between my body and Cal’s. I’ve seen this before, a thousand years ago. Samson Merandus in the arena, forcing another Silver to cut up his own insides. He’ll do the same to me too, once he uses me to kill Cal.
I try to fight, though I don’t know where to start. Try to twitch a finger, a toe. Nothing responds.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
Lightning erupts from my hand, spiraling toward Cal. It misses, off balance like my body. He sends an arc of fire in response, forcing me to dodge and stumble.
Get up. Kill him. Get up.
The whispers are sharp, cutting wounds across my mind. I must be bleeding in my brain.
KILL HIM. GET UP. KILL HIM.
Through the flames, I see navy blue again. Cal stalks after Samson and skids to a knee, taking aim with a pistol of his own.
GET UP—
Pain crashes through me like a wave and I fall backward just as a bullet tears overhead. Another follows, closer. On pure instinct, fighting the ringing in my bruised skull, I scramble to my toes. I move of my own volition.
Shrieking, I turn Cal’s fire to lightning, the red curls becoming purple-white veins of electricity. It shields me as Cal empties bullet after bullet in my direction. Behind him, Samson grins.
Bastard. He’s going to play us off each other for as long as it takes.
I push the lightning as fast as I can, letting it splinter toward Samson. If I can break his concentration, just for a second, it could be enough.
Cal reacts, a puppet on strings. He shields Samson with his broad body, taking the brunt of my attack.
“Someone help!” I shout to no one. We’re only three people in a battle of hundreds. A battle turning one-sided. The Silver ranks grow, fed by reinforcements from the barracks and the rest of the Archeon garrison. My five minutes have long passed. Whatever escape Crance promised is long gone.
I have to break Samson. I have to.
Another bolt of lightning, this time across the ground in a flood. No dodging that.
KILL HIM. KILL HIM. KILL HIM.
The whispers return, pulling back the electricity with my own two hands. It arcs backward in a crashing wave.
Cal drops and spins, throwing out his leg in a sweeping kick. It connects, sending Samson sprawling.
His control of me drops and I push forward. Another electric wave.
This one washes through them both. Cal curses, biting back a yelp. Samson writhes and screams, a blood-curdling sound. He isn’t used to pain.
Kill him—
The whisper is far away, weakening. I can fight it.
Cal grabs Samson by the neck, pulling him up only to smash his head back down.
Kill him—
I slice a hand through the air, pulling lightning with it. It splits a gash in Samson from hip to shoulder. The wound spurts Silver blood.
Help me—
Fire races down Samson’s throat, charring his insides. His vocal cords shred. The only screaming I hear now is in my head.
I bring my lightning into his brain. Electricity fries the tissue in his skull like an egg in a pan. His eyes roll over white. I want to make it last longer, want to make him pay for what torture he gave to me and so many others. But he dies too quickly.
The whispers disappear.
“It’s done,” I gasp aloud.
Cal looks up, still kneeling over the body. His eyes widen as if seeing me for the first time. I feel the same. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, wanting it for months and months. If not for the battle, for our precarious position wedged in the middle, I would wrap my arms around his neck and bury myself in the fire prince.
Instead, I help him to his feet, throwing one of his arms over my shoulder. He limps, one leg a mess of muscle spasms. I’m hurt too, bleeding slowly from a tear in my side. I press my free hand to the wound. The pain sharpens.
“Maven is below the Treasury. He has a train,” I say as we clamber away together.
His arm tightens around me. He steers us toward the main gate, quickening his pace with every step. “I’m not here for Maven.”