“There was nothing peaceful about it,” I said, my eyes scanning the darkness. There wasn’t a part of the room that hadn’t been upturned. Her former Wizard Guard were piled one on top of the other near the window. I couldn’t tell if they were unconscious or dead, but the torn draperies, burned carpet, and sprays of blood across the walls seemed to indicate the latter.

“Do you not like the way I’ve redecorated?” Dorwan’s voice floated around us, but he was nowhere to be seen. Another one of his tricks.

“I’m sorry,” the queen said, and I could see she meant it. “He came just before you got back, demanding that I fetch you. I had no choice; he would have killed the guards and myself.”

So they were alive, then. It seemed a strange show of mercy from an otherwise ruthless wizard.

“Come out, you coward,” I called, stepping in front of the queen. “I should have known your ugly face would show up the moment North and the others left.”

“Some call it cowardice; others, intelligence,” he said. “I hope you didn’t think that little stunt you pulled on the mountain would be enough to kill a wizard as powerful as I.”

“A roach can survive anything, apparently,” I said.

Dorwan stepped out from the queen’s bedroom, dressed in the black uniform of the Wizard Guard. In his fist was his dagger with its long, braided string of blue. He spun the cord around casually, the dagger slicing through the air in a wide arc.

“Why didn’t you save the king of Auster?” I asked. “By letting him die, you’ve ruined your own plan.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his scarred face turned toward the queen.

“I want you out of my kingdom,” she said. “I am willing to consider your terms, as long as they do not involve harming my subjects.” I didn’t miss the way her hand reached back for the door. Dorwan did not miss it, either. He threw his talisman down with a harsh laugh, and a vein of ice sprang up, racing toward the door. The queen and I leapt apart, watching as a thick layer of ice overcame the door and froze it shut. Queen Eglantine looked at me in alarm.

“That’ll keep our other friend occupied when he returns,” Dorwan said, picking up the knife. “Now, Sydelle, on to more important things.”

The queen lunged to her left, picking up one of the overturned chairs and throwing it at him with all her might. Dorwan ducked before it could hit him, but I used the distraction to grab at one of the ornamental swords on the wall. I wrenched and pulled at the hilt, but the ancient thing had been hammered into place.

Before I could take another step, a blast of water slammed into both the queen and me, knocking us back against the door. My forehead collided with the sharp edge of the doorknob, and it was enough to stun me for a moment.

I turned, searching until I found the queen a short distance away. She was on the ground, unmoving. Her dress was pooled around her, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if she was alive at all until I saw her breathe.

I pulled myself up onto my knees, but Dorwan was just as quick to knock me back down.

“You still have such spirit,” he said, laughing. “It breaks my heart.”

“As if it hasn’t already shriveled up,” I said. I rolled onto my side, trying to ignore the sharp pain in my head. He knelt on me, forcing the air from my chest. I tried to push him off, but it was like trying to move a stone wall.

“You let them suppress your magic, didn’t you?” Dorwan’s eyes narrowed. “Why is it so difficult for you to understand that power is a blessing? Why do you let them make you feel ashamed of it?”

His fingers traced the length of my arm, a disturbingly gentle act, until they came to rest on my wrist. His eyes flashed in recognition and I felt, rather than saw, his fingers seize the thin metal.

“Take it off,” I dared him. “I can control my magic with or without it.”

Dorwan tightened his hand around my wrist until the pain was nearly excruciating. “Take it off and give you the chance to use your magic? Nice try.”

The dagger slid deeply, unexpectedly, against the length of my arm, from elbow to wrist. I opened my mouth to release a scream of pain, but he pressed his hand firmly against my mouth.

“You asked me why I didn’t save the king?” Dorwan said. “It occurred to me that if I had your power, it really wouldn’t matter if they invaded or not. I’m tired of waiting for things to fall into place. I’ll be more than capable of ruining this kingdom with your blood.”

He pulled a flask from his side, twisting the top open methodically and placing it near the dagger. Dorwan was silent for a moment, bringing one of his bloodstained gloves up to my eyes. He licked the tip of its thumb. “Red, the color of life, of passion. You wear it so well.”

Dorwan cut into my arm again, this time a little lower. The warmth trickled down the length of my arm, collecting in the gaping mouth of the flask.

“You won’t win,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I already have, Sydelle,” Dorwan said softly. “Everyone above us will be overrun and torn—augh!” An unexpected crack sounded, cutting his words short.

The queen stood with one of the fireplace pokers in her hands. The tip of it had broken off in her strike and landed near my face. Her shoulders heaved as she took in deep gulps of air.

“What a vile, horrible man!” she cried, still holding the black metal rod, as if waiting to strike him again. “Did I kill him?”