“And?”

“You gave off twice what I recorded before,” he says proudly, but I don’t see why it matters at all. With a quick dip, he switches off the spark box, as I’ve taken to calling it. I can feel the electricity in it die away. “Try again.”

Huffing, I focus again. After a moment of concentration, my sparks return, just as strong as before. But this time they come from within me.

Julian’s grin splits his face from ear to ear.

“So . . .?”

“So this confirms my suspicions.” Sometimes I forget Julian is a scholar and a scientist. But he’s always quick to remind me. “You produced electrical energy.”

Now I’m really confused. “Right. That’s my ability, Julian.”

“No, I thought your ability was the power to manipulate, not create,” he says, his voice dropping gravely. “No one can create, Mare.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. The nymphs—”

“Manipulate water that already exists. They can’t use what isn’t there.”

“Well, what about Cal? Maven? I don’t see many raging infernos around for them to play with.”

Julian smiles, shaking his head. “You’ve seen their bracelets, yes?”

“They always wear them.”

“The bracelets make sparks, little tiny flames for the boys to control. Without something to start the fire, they are powerless. All elementals are the same, manipulating metal or water or plant life that already exists. They’re only as strong as their surroundings. Not like you, Mare.”

Not like me. I’m not like anyone. “So what does this mean?”

“I’m not quite sure. You are something else entirely. Not Red, not Silver. Something else. Something more.”

“Something different.” I expected Julian’s tests to bring me closer to some kind of answer, but instead they only raise more questions. “What am I, Julian? What’s wrong with me?”

Suddenly it’s very difficult to breathe and my eyes swim. I have to blink back hot tears, trying to hide them from Julian. It’s all catching up to me, I think. Lessons, Protocol, this place where I can’t trust anyone, where I’m not even myself. It’s suffocating. I want to scream, but I know I can’t.

“There’s nothing wrong with being different,” I hear Julian say, but the words are just an echo. My own thoughts, memories of home, of Gisa and Kilorn, drown him out.

“Mare?” He takes a step toward me, his face a picture of kindness—but he keeps me at an arm’s length. Not for my sake—his own. To protect himself from me. With a gasp, I realize the sparks have returned, running up my forearms now, threatening to engulf me in a raging bright storm. “Mare, focus on me. Mare, control it.”

He speaks softly, calmly, but with steady force. He even looks frightened of me.

“Control, Mare.”

But I can’t control anything. Not my future, not my thoughts, not even this ability that is the root of all my troubles.

There is one thing I can still control though, for now, at least. My feet.

Like the wretched coward that I am, I run.

The halls are empty as I tear through them, but the invisible weight of a thousand cameras presses down on me. I don’t have much time until Lucas or, worse, the Sentinels, find me. I just need to breathe. I just need to see the sky above me, not glass.

I’m standing on the balcony a full ten seconds before I realize it’s raining, washing me clean of my boiling anger. The sparks are gone, replaced by fierce, ugly tears that track down my face. Thunder rumbles somewhere far off and the air is warm. But the humid temperature is gone. The heat has broken and summer will soon be over. Time is passing. My life is moving on, no matter how much I want it to stay the same.

When a strong hand closes around my arm, I almost scream. Two Sentinels stand over me, their eyes dark behind their masks. Both are twice my size and heartless, trying to drag me back into my prison.

“My lady,” one of them growls, but it doesn’t sound respectful at all.

“Let me go.” The command is weak, almost a whisper. I gulp down air like I’m drowning. “Just give me a few minutes, please—”

But I’m not their master. They don’t answer to me. No one does.

“You heard my bride,” another voice says. His words are firm and hard, the voice of royalty. Maven. “Let her go.”

When the prince steps out onto the balcony, I can’t help but feel a rush of relief. The Sentinels straighten at his presence, both inclining their heads in his direction. The one holding me speaks up. “We must keep the Lady Titanos to her schedule,” he says, but he loosens his grip. “It’s orders, sir.”