Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,88

floor—and then a moment later, he draws it back out wrapped around a woman’s wrist.

And then an arm.

And then Mom.

The Silver Prince pulls her out of the opening like a rag doll and sets her on her feet. She looks uninjured, but I wouldn’t say okay. Her face is sallow and gaunt, her hair cropped short. Her clothes are ragged, and there are metal bands around her wrists and ankles—probably enchanted with binding magic. She stands stiffly, like she’s been hurt.

But her eyes flash with life. It’s strange and jarring to see, when so much else is wrong, when I’m so filled with fear. But a part of Mom is fighting back for the first time in forever, and that gives me just the tiniest spark of hope.

Nahteran looks as shaken as I am. His eyes are fixed on Mom, and he’s leaning forward slightly, like he wants to go to her too.

“Mom,” he whispers, and my heart splinters. “Are you okay?”

Could he have been telling the truth? That he only coordinated with the Silver Prince because he wanted her back?

The Silver Prince taps Mom’s back—a deceptively casual gesture, but Mom stumbles forward from the force of it. I leap to catch her, and as I do—as her weight hits me, making us both stumble back—the Silver Prince seems to notice me for the first time.

And smiles. He sheaths his sword and lifts his hands, palms facing inward. Flames spring up between them, bright and eagerly lapping at the air. My breath catches. This isn’t borrowed magic like with the soul-silver. It belongs to the Silver Prince, is native to him. And using it, he will never tire.

“Madeline.” The Silver Prince’s voice is silky smooth as ever, his manner relaxed despite the chaos all around us. “How nice to see you again.”

His voice isn’t raised, but somehow it cuts through the wind all the same, like the sound waves are boring a tunnel through the air just to reach my ears. Maybe they are; maybe the Silver Prince’s control over the air reaches to a molecular level. I push Mom back behind me. Not that I’m much protection. I tighten my grip on the knife. It isn’t magic, but it will have to do.

I won’t let fear stop me.

I lunge at the Silver Prince, aiming my knife for his heart. He sidesteps, leaving fire in the space where he just stood; my momentum almost carries me straight into it. I jerk to the side and pivot, trying to regain my bearings. I attack again, and the Silver Prince’s fist catches me across the face.

Stars bloom in my vision, and my teeth rattle; I stumble back, the world tilting around me.

“Stop!” Taya’s scream comes from behind me. “We have what you want! We have the armor!”

I twist to look behind me, and they’re there, both of them, Nahteran and Taya, holding each other to stay upright. Nahteran has a gold breastplate in his free hand, and Taya holds the two gauntlets. Behind them, Mom is looking on in horror, shaking her head wildly, but I know what she doesn’t. That the armor is fake. I can tell, the shape subtly off, the carving not as intricate as it should be. But looking up into the Silver Prince’s face, seeing the naked greed animating his features, I know he can’t tell.

My mind kicks into overdrive. When Nahteran opened the doorway in the ballroom, I thought everything was ruined. But seeing the fake armor makes me think we still have a chance to pull it off. The words I rehearsed in my head a thousand times yesterday burst from my lips.

“No!” I scream. “What are you doing?” I stagger to my feet, ready to lunge at Nahteran and Taya, to sell the performance that giving up the armor would be the destruction of everything I love.

Turns out I didn’t have to fake the fear in my voice, or that I’m on the verge of tears. The ballroom of Havenfall is destroyed all around us. The Silver Prince is here. The world hangs in the balance.

But then—

A great fwoom sounds in the air. I turn around to see a fireball hurtling straight toward me.

But before it finds its target—namely, me—something hits my back with the force of a boulder. I go down, hitting the ground and rolling. Blue fur and fire flash through my vision, and the dagger drops from my grip. Taya has shapeshifted and pushed me out of the way just as