T he Fey king watched me with detached interest as I leapt up, grabbed my weapon, and backed away from him. My muscles screamed at the

movement. Exhaustion and the remnants of my dream clouded my mind.

The Lejara. The thought came in a burst of panic. In the midst of my disorientation, I pressed my hand to my lapel, where the amber stone was safely tucked within my jacket.

I yanked my hand away immediately, cursing my own stupidity. But too late. I saw the Fey king’s eyes follow that movement.

“It is good to see you again,” he said.

He stepped closer. His sword was drawn and ready. Crimson already dripped from its blade to the floor. At the sight of it, I thought of Tisaanah and my heart stopped. I prayed he hadn’t found her first.

With every step he took towards me, I took one back. Slowly, we circled each other.

“I need to take that from you,” he said, calmly. “This is a mistake.”

Something was not right about this man’s face—about his eyes. The darkness that bracketed them went beyond exhaustion. Maybe I was wasting my breath by trying to reason with him. But Fey were bigger than humans, stronger, faster. I was wounded. My magic was so depleted that even its dregs were out of reach. Even if this man was injured, the odds were against me in a hand-to-hand fight.

I needed to buy time.

“I know you must feel it,” I said. “That something is breaking. This magic is too dangerous to use.”

The king’s lip twitched. “You did not hesitate to use it against my people when you had it in your possession.”

“Fair. But we didn’t know its true impacts, then. Trust me when I say our intention was not to end the world.”

“I have no reason to believe you.” He moved first.

He was incredibly fast, even wounded. Downright graceful—the way he moved seemed better suited to dancing than killing. I had been watching for this, and the speed and grace of it still caught me a little off-guard.

His weapon met mine in a song of metal against metal, each note faster and faster as we flew down the hall, our steps never stopping. I dodged, blocked, slipped through his strikes—and he evaded each of mine, too, until in one wild cacophony of steel we clashed together and then pulled apart, setting several strides of distance between us.

We circled each other again, faster, the spirals larger.

No magic. I knew he was a powerful Wielder. Why wasn’t he using it? Was it for the same reason I didn’t? Mine still burned with exhaustion. If I only had one shot, I didn’t want to waste it.

I watched his movements carefully, lingering on the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders. Violet soaked his shirt beneath his arm, along his ribs. He was hurt badly.

“I know that you want what’s best for your people,” I said. “But doing this will hurt them just as much as it will hurt mine.”

Minutes. Just a few more minutes, maybe, and I would be able to use my magic again.

He scoffed. The sound was jagged and wheezing—confirming my suspicion that he was injured. “Humans slaughtered my entire House hundreds of years ago in search of this power, and now you expect me to forfeit it based on your word?”

“I am more than aware of humanity’s many flaws, trust me. But—” Apparently, he had no interest in what I had to say. He lunged.

Another cascading melody of strikes, as our weapons collided again, again, again. With each one, we both grew slower and sloppier. This time, we only made it halfway down the hall before we pulled apart again. A sheen of sweat slicked his skin. My breath burned in my lungs.

“She told me about you,” he panted, revealing the faintest crack in his calm exterior. “How much you craved power. Spare me your hypocrisy.”

“And did she tell you how much I paid for it?” I shot back. “You’re right. I was young and stupid. I thought my only path to respect was through violence. But I suffered more than enough for those mistakes.”

A rough laugh. “More than enough. How old are you? How much justice can be served in thirty years of life? That is nothing, and that is why humans can never be trusted. You die, and then your children make the same mistakes. And we are alive for all of it, to bear the consequences over and over again.”

This time, there was nothing graceful in his attack. Before, I could anticipate his next move because he set up his entire body for his strike— minuscule changes, yes, but I could read them. But this? It was fast, vicious, designed only to kill. The tip of his rapier opened a river of blood across my abdomen before I twisted out of the way. I managed to land a return hit, the breath knocked out of him as I struck his shoulder with one end of my weapon, his knee with the other, sending him momentarily collapsing before righting himself.

And there, at last, was the magic.

He thrust out his palm and released a burst of power, strong enough to send my back slamming against Ilyzath’s walls—so hard I thought its carvings must now be etched into my skin.

His magic held me there as he approached me, coming close enough that his face was inches from mine.

“I would never expect your kind to understand justice,” he said. “One act of justice to ensure my people’s futures. The last one they will ever need. And I will give them that, no matter what lies you tell me. No matter what you do to stop me.”

His expression was still calm—or what I’d mistaken as calm. Now I almost laughed at my own naïveté. What, I thought he wasn’t angry because he didn’t sneer and snarl like an animal? The calm was worse. This was the face of something deeper than anger. This was hate distilled into a single, unquestionable end.

My eyes drifted down to his throat—to the lines of black reaching up over his skin.

Their future, he had said. Not our future. Their future. And then I understood. He was dying.

No wonder he was willing to sacrifice everything. There was no reasoning with someone who had nothing more to lose. He would not listen

to anything I told him.

My magic was still drained. But he was close enough that I had a single shot, and I took it.

I opened my second eyelids.

Fire exploded across the white of Ilyzath’s walls. The Fey king’s eyes went wide. One hand went up to shield his face as flames consumed us both.

I struck with my knife, burying the blade in his side. It was a sloppy strike—not fatal, unless he bled out—but it should have been enough to bring him down.

Instead, he set his jaw and lunged. His magic slammed me against the stone.

Move move move—

I wasn’t fast enough. His rapier skewered me. The pain swallowed everything else.

Maybe I blacked out. Because the next thing I knew, seconds had passed, and the king was right in front of me. A sneer at last bubbled to the surface of his expression.

With a shaking hand, I touched my lapel, and felt nothing. Fuck. Fuck.

The king’s magic still pinned me to the wall, his blade still piercing through me. I realized, for the first time, that I would probably die here. At least I’d go down fighting.

I raised my left hand, preparing one final burst of fire against him.

His eyes fell to my palm, and his face changed. He blinked, and the sneer disappeared as he regarded me with renewed interest. He pressed my hand to the wall, leaning close to examine it—and the mark it carried.

No.

“Why did you come to this place?” he asked, quietly. “What is the true nature of it?”

I called the flames with all my remaining strength.

The king jerked away from the heat, his grip slackening. I fell to the floor. I couldn’t figure out why I was struggling to rise until I realized I kept slipping on my own blood.

The remainder of my magic burned out quickly. I had nothing left, and I was bleeding heavily. I barely managed to grab my weapon again, though the metal slid beneath my blood-drenched fingers.

The king turned to me—

And was flung across the hallway.

The strike came so quickly that it merely looked like a flash of red and white and tan. He hadn’t been anticipating it. He slammed against the wall, doubled over—the hit was bad, especially on top of his previous injuries.

Through my fading vision, I watched him stumble and turn towards Tisaanah, who rushed at him.

I watched him whisper to his magic and disappear before she could strike.

And by the time Tisaanah knelt before me, I could barely see anything at all.