No one raises a hand. Not even Evangeline’s friends. Instead, they stare between us, watching our abilities grow.
Evangeline’s smile fades into a sneer. She’s used to being favored, to being the one everyone’s afraid of. And now she’s angrier than ever.
Again, the lights flicker on and off, as my body hums like an overloaded wire. In the flashing darkness, her spiders scrabble over the floor, their metal legs clanging in terrible harmony.
And then all I know is fear and power and the surge of energy in my veins.
Darkness and light explode back and forth, plunging us both into a strange battle of flickering color. My lightning bursts through the darkness, streaking purple and white as it shatters through spiders at every turn. Cal’s advice echoes in my head and I keep moving, never sticking to one spot on the floor long enough for Evangeline to hurt me. She weaves through her spiders, dodging my sparks as best she can. Jagged metal tears at my arms, but the leather suit holds firm. She’s fast, but I’m faster, even with spiders clawing around my legs. For a second, her infuriating silver braid passes through my fingertips, before she’s out of reach again. But I’ve got her on the run. I’m winning.
I hear Maven through the shriek of metal and cheering classmates, roaring for me to finish her. The lights flash, making her hard to spot, but for a brief moment, I feel what it’s like to be one of them. To feel strength and power absolutely, to know you can do what millions can’t. Evangeline feels like this every day, and now it’s my turn. I’ll teach you what it’s like to know fear.
A fist slams against the small of my back, shooting pain through the rest of my body. My knees buckle with the agony, sending me to the ground. Evangeline pauses above me, her smile surrounded by a messy curtain of silver hair.
“Like I said,” she snarls. “Quick.”
My legs move on their own, swinging out in a maneuver I’ve used in the back alleys of the Stilts a hundred times. Even on Kilorn once or twice. My foot connects with her leg, sweeping it out from under her, and she crashes to the floor next to me. I’m on her in a second, despite the exploding pain in my back. My hands crackle with hot energy, even as they collide against her face. Pain sears through my knucklebones but I keep going, wanting to see sweet silverblood.
“You’ll wish it was quick,” I roar, bearing down on her.
Somehow, through her bruising lips, Evangeline manages to laugh. The sound melts away, replaced by metallic screeching. And all around us, the fallen, electrified spiders twitch to life. Their metal bodies re-form, weaving together at the seams, into a ruinous, smoking beast.
It skitters with surprising speed, knocking me off her. I’m the one pinned now, looking up at the heaving, twisting shards of metal. The sparks die in my hands, driven away by fear and exhaustion. Even the healers won’t be able to save me after this.
A razor leg drags across my face, drawing red, hot blood. I hear myself scream, not in pain, but defeat. This is the end.
And then a blazing arm of fire knocks the metal monster off me, burning it into nothing more than a charred black pile of ash. Strong hands pull me to my feet, and then go to my hair, pulling it across my face to hide the red mark that could betray me. I turn in to Maven, letting him walk me from the training room. Every inch of me shakes, but he keeps me steady and moving. A healer comes my way, but Cal heads him off, blocking my face from his sight.
Before the door slams behind us, I hear Evangeline yelling and Cal’s usually calm voice yelling right back, roaring over her like a storm.
My voice breaks when I finally speak again. “The cameras, the cameras can see.”
“Sentinels sworn to my mother man the cameras, trust me, they aren’t what we should be worrying about,” Maven says, almost tripping over his words. He keeps a tight grip on my arm, like he’s afraid I might be pulled away from him. His hand ghosts over my face, wiping away the blood with his sleeve. If anyone sees . . .
“Take me to Julian.”
“Julian’s a fool,” he mutters.
Figures appear at the far end of the hall, a pair of roaming nobles, and he pushes us down a service passage to avoid them.
“Julian knows who I am,” I whisper back, grabbing onto him. As his grip tightens, so does mine. “Julian will know what to do.”
Maven looks down on me, conflicted, but finally nods. By the time we reach Julian’s quarters, the bleeding has stopped, but my face is still a mess.
He opens the door on the first knock, looking his usual haphazard self. To my surprise, he frowns at Maven.
“Prince Maven,” he says, bending into a stiff, almost insulting bow. Maven doesn’t respond, only pushes me past Julian into the sitting room beyond.
Julian has a small set of rooms, made smaller by darkness and stale air. The curtains are drawn, blotting out the afternoon sun, and the floor is slippery with loose stacks of paper. A kettle simmers in the corner, on an electric piece of metal meant to replace a stove. No wonder I never see him outside of Lessons; he appears to have everything he needs right here.
“What’s going on?” he asks, waving us to a pair of dusty chairs. Obviously he doesn’t entertain much. I take a seat, but Maven refuses, still standing.
I draw aside my curtain of hair, revealing the shining red flag of my identity. “Evangeline got carried away.”
Julian shifts, uncomfortable on his own two feet. But it’s not me making him squirm; it’s Maven. The two glare at each other, at odds over something I don’t understand. Finally, he turns his gaze back on me. “I’m not a skin healer, Mare. The best I can do is clean you up.”
“I told you,” Maven says. “He can’t do anything.”
Julian’s lip curls into a snarl. “Find Sara Skonos,” he snaps, his jaw tightening as he waits for Maven to move. I’ve never seen Maven this angry, not even with Cal. But then, it’s not anger spilling out from Maven or Julian—it’s hate. They absolutely despise each other.
“Do it, my prince.” The title sounds like a curse coming from Julian’s lips.
Maven finally concedes, and slips out the door.
“What’s that all about?” I whisper, gesturing between Julian and the door.
“Not now,” he says, and tosses me a white cloth to clean myself with. It stains a dark red as my blood ruins the fabric.
“Who’s Sara Skonos?”
Again, Julian hesitates. “A skin healer. She’ll take care of you.” He sighs. “And she’s a friend. A discreet friend.”