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“Stay back, Lark!” Sterling’s eyes meet mine through the gap in the guards. “Someone grab Leesa!”

A guard rushes past me. “Put the fire out so we can get her!”

“Wait!” I grab his arm. “You will subdue her but not harm her. Understand?”

The guard glances at the crown prince.

“You heard her.” Sterling’s face is a hard mask as he shoves the guards encircling him away. “Lock her in a cell. I want two guards with her at all times. Ensure she doesn’t hurt herself.” His dark eyes glare daggers. “If any harm comes to her, I’ll put whoever is responsible on a fucking spike and use their head for a centerpiece in the dining hall.”

For a split second, he meets my gaze again, and I have no doubt he’ll make good on that threat if necessary.

A collective “yes, sir” echoes through the room. Only then do I rein in my magic.

The ring of fire dissipates.

Wings beat the air as two guards launch themselves at Leesa. She’s agile, feral, and shows no hint of hesitation as she ducks underneath them and lunges straight for me.

“Leesa, no!” Once again, fire erupts from my fingertips, forming a barrier between us.

My sister sneers at the flames as if they amuse her. She thrusts out her hands, and to my horror, my own fire bends to her will. She’s pushing it back toward me with a skill she’s never had and a strength she shouldn’t possess. Especially without using eyril.

What the fucking fuck? Since when can Leesa best me—a dragoncaller—in elemental magic?

But Leesa’s not the one staring back at me. Not truly.

It’s someone—something else. A monster wearing my sister’s face and taunting me with its newfound power.

The guards hit Leesa with the weight of their bodies, pinning her beneath their armored bulk.

My fire is mine to control again, and I banish it at once, as if the flames and not my family had betrayed me. I blink rapidly, heart pounding as my sister’s twisted sneer is hidden from view. Pushing myself up, I peer over the table at the floor.

Agnar’s cry pierces the room. “No! Godsdammit, no!”

Rubbing the back of his head, Bastian scrambles to Agnar’s side. “What can I do?”

Agnar ignores the question and instead stares intently at Blair’s chest. The fingers pressed to Blair’s neck are scarlet from his attempts to staunch the bleeding.

Tense silence gathers in the air. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until Agnar’s shoulders sag and his head bows. “Nothing. You can’t do anything. Not now.” A huge shudder racks his body before he lifts his head. The anguish contorting his face pulls a whimper from my lips. “He’s gone.”

Sterling’s face leeches of color. “Fuck.”

I shake my head and dig my fingernails into my palms. “Why?” I whisper to no one in particular.

Agnar begins murmuring a prayer to the gods, commending Blair’s soul to them. Bastian joins in.

Spine rigid, Sterling braces his hands on his hips and glares at the floor.

I don’t know what to do with myself. Agony rips my heart in two, but there’s no time to stop and mourn.

Leesa shrieks as she fights the guards restraining her, aiming her flames at Bastian and Agnar, who are too distracted by their grief-stricken prayers to sense the danger.

The fire curls at my command, switching directions as I draw my sister’s flames toward my own palms.

Leesa screams and lashes out again.

I snag each flame, ensuring that none of her attacks land. That does little to soothe the terrible pain in my chest.

I couldn’t save Blair.