The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,152

just past the crumpled body of Simon’s guardsman. Wild coronas of light flared and arced into each other, sparks showering everywhere. Patches of grass were already ablaze. Thank Khalmet it wasn’t midsummer, or else the whole meadow would’ve gone up like a tinderbox. As it was, I thought it high time to be leaving before I got burned to a crisp. I hesitated, looking at the despairing fury on Kiran’s face, but there was nothing I could do for him now.

Ruslan’s back was to me. If I moved fast, I might make it to the trees unnoticed. I eased forward, ready to run—and a hand gripped my shoulder for the second time that night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

(Dev)

I whipped around with a choked shout, convinced I’d see Simon.

“Quiet!” It wasn’t Simon this time, either. My captor was a sandy-haired guy around my own age with a broad, serious face and slanted gray eyes. He held up a hand haloed in green magelight. “If you run, I will stop you.” He had the same faint accent as Kiran.

“Oh, for Khalmet’s sake,” I snarled. “How many of you are there, stomping around the Whitefires?”

His head tilted, magefire reflected in his pale eyes. “Just me, my master—and Kiran. You want to help him, don’t you? I saw it on your face.”

“You must be Mikail.” Kiran hadn’t said much about him, but at least he hadn’t spoken of Mikail with the same dread as he had Ruslan.

Mikail nodded. A bright flash tinted his flat features blue, and his jaw tightened. “Kiran never knows when to quit,” he muttered. And then, louder, “He’s more like Ruslan than you realize.”

My disbelief must’ve shown, because he huffed a short, ironic laugh. “Did he tell you Ruslan and I were monsters, and he the innocent, helpless victim?”

“I don’t have to take his word for it,” I said sharply. “Ruslan’s doing a great job of proving him right.” Why was he talking to me instead of killing me, or binding me with magic the way Simon had?

“And if Kiran weren’t equally as obsessive, stubborn, and slow to forgive as Ruslan, none of this would be happening.” Mikail sounded weary. He pressed a thick, ornate silver charm-band into my hand. “I found this in Simon’s cabin—if you want Kiran’s freedom, put it on.”

“What does it do? And wait—why would you want Kiran free?” I wasn’t about to trust anyone who called Ruslan master.

Mikail gave a one-sided shrug. “Ruslan will push Kiran too far. Look at him.” Out in the meadow, Kiran staggered and fell to one knee, bracing his hands on the earth. The writhing spirals of light around him faded, then blazed up with renewed force.

“Ruslan seeks to block Kiran’s access to the confluence power here, thinking that will force surrender, but I know my mage-brother. With the mark-binding yet unstable and Lizaveta’s heart-binding broken, Kiran will spend his entire life force rather than give in,” Mikail said, his voice low and unhappy.

“Then help him! You’re a mage!”

“Go against Ruslan, directly?” Mikail eyed me as if I were a slow-witted child. “That, he would not forgive—and I am not Kiran.” He gripped my shoulder. “Make no mistake, I think Kiran is being a fool. But I prefer him a live fool to a dead one, so I give the choice to you—help him, or watch him die and then face Ruslan yourself.”

Not much of a choice. I stared at the charm in my hand. “What will this thing do?”

Mikail smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Provide a weapon only a nathahlen can use.”

If I’d ever seen a fool’s game, this was it...but I’d been ready to die at Simon’s hands on the slim chance I’d save Kiran. This wasn’t far different.

Before I could change my mind, I slipped the charm onto a wrist. Mikail laid a hand over it and mumbled something under his breath. The charm flashed green. Prickling heat raced up my arm.

And then—oh, and then—shock stopped my breath, as deep in my mind something unfolded I’d thought I’d lost forever.

The Taint! Stunned, unbelieving exultation near choked me. Could it really be true? My gaze lit on a rock shard lying at Mikail’s feet. In an agony of anticipation, I reached out with my mind.

The old familiar twisting sensation sent an ecstatic thrill chasing down my spine. The rock shard sprang into the air and hung there, slowly revolving.

Even as I did it, a deep, vicious cramp stabbed my stomach. I didn’t care. Joy bubbled up to fill the