senses pinpoint the closest magic, a tendril of winter and ice, and I focus every bit of that magic on the tip of the bolt.
It hits the spider, sinking deep, and then the spider makes a very different noise this time. Its scream cuts off as it turns to ice, crumpling inward until it’s nothing more than a pile of tiny fragments.
The whole thing takes less than a breath. But by the end, Hellebore knows two things:
I have magic.
And I can use winter magic.
“You’ve been keeping secrets,” Hellebore purrs, stalking closer, “haven’t you, darling?”
“You have no idea,” I growl. Using my magic, I call the bolt I hid beneath the sand onto my crossbow and unload it into his chest.
Surprise flickers over his face, and he twists sideways, but the bolt hits home in his shoulder. The thunk of metal entering flesh gives me a weird satisfaction.
I wait for the pain to flash in his eyes. For a grunt. Something.
But he just stares at me, eyes darkening. A slow, lethal anger twists his features into something unrecognizable. “So that’s how you want to do this.”
“Oh, did you miss the crossbow pointed at your face?” I taunt, gathering momentum as I catch the muscle in his jaw clench. The way his nostrils flare, his movements going from flashy to predatory.
I don’t see him grab the knife, not until it’s glittering between his fingers. He rolls it over his knuckles as he quietly stalks forward.
Now I am out of bolts. I toss the crossbow to the side. Focus on the magic around me. I purposefully conjure the weakest energies, pretending to struggle with the tiny flame in my hand as he methodically devours the space between us.
I’m banking on Hellebore wanting to draw this out. To make it close and personal. The first cut will only be a flesh wound—a taste of what’s to come. I hope.
That’s all I need.
I retreat from his advance, but I slowly let him carve out more and more space until I’m trapped near my corner. Eclipsa tosses me the axe, but Hellebore destroys it midair, the pieces littering the sand around my feet.
“Move, Summer!” Eclipsa orders. “Grab your sword.”
I lunge for the weapon, but the moment my fingers close around the hilt, it becomes a black scorpion the size of a cat. It’s stinger stabs the back of my hand, white-hot fire sinking into the bone.
I jerk my injured hand away, stumbling backward, retreating instead of circling.
For a hopeful moment, I think the stinger will draw blood—but only a red knot appears.
Gritting through the throbbing pain, I focus on my plan. I need him close. The knife stops twirling over his knuckles. He’s a few feet away.
The stands are silent.
“That sting you felt? It prevents you from wielding magic. You are now defenseless, powerless, weaponless. Ready to ask for mercy?” One side of his mouth curls upward. “Or do you need an incentive first?”
Remembering Eclipsa’s warning, I try to harness the Spring magic swirling around me but it slips through my grasp.
This is it. My final chance.
Sweat drips from my hands and trickles between my shoulder blades. Alarm pulses from my core as I hold his stare and see the darkness there. The cruelty. But he’s not quite angry enough. Even with my bolt sunk almost fletching deep in his shoulder. Even after I killed his spider and showed magic.
Swallowing, I gather every bit of my bravery and whisper so only he can hear, “Did she ask for mercy too?”
His eyes narrow as if he senses a trick, but his curiosity wins over. “Who?”
“Hayley Richardson.”
The moment her name leaves my lips, something breaks inside him. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t change his expression. And yet I can feel the shift from annoyed anger to rage. Blinding, bitter rage.
I don’t see the blade leave his hand. But I do see it flying toward me almost in slow motion. I fight to keep my eyes open as I brace for impact, knowing that no matter how badly it hurts, how badly I’m injured, this is the key to my freedom.
Right before his knife hits me, his eyes widen, and his magic knocks the blade sideways into the sand.
No.
I rush him, clawing at his skin, calling him every horrible name I can think of, desperate for him to draw my blood.
Vines spear from the sand all around me, lashing my arms behind my back. He tilts his head as he stares at me, surprised and maybe even impressed.
I slam my