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“Careful, Thaas,” I said, jumping to my feet. He was quick to follow. “Your emotions are running high.”

He swung twice. I dodged the first and blocked the next, then smoked him in the cheek for everything I was worth.

He staggered back. I watched as his eyes lost focus, and he blinked. After a moment on his feet, he crumpled to the floorboards.

“That was for Fen,” I said.

Then I turned and ran out the door to find her.

Chapter Forty-One

Fenli

He threw the lamp to the floorboards between us, oil soaking the wood and lighting in a blinding swell of flames.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” I heard him yell over the whoosh of fire. I held up my arm to protect my face and tumbled backwards into the table. “Tell your father that I did as he would have wanted.”

I squinted into the light just in time to see him slip behind the door. It closed, and I heard the damning sound of the lock.

“Axl!” I shouted. “Axl, don’t!”

But I knew my pleas would be in vain.

“Help! Someone!”

But they were all in the meeting house, debating me, and I would be too far away for them to hear.

I had to get myself out.

I looked for something I could use to smother the fire. There was no blanket on the bed, but there was the mattress. I grabbed the thin pad and threw it on the blaze, moving it by the corner to try and put out as much as I could. But the stupid thing was too small. The flames lickedhigh wherever the mattress wasn’t covering, and the boards relit as soon as the mattress was moved. Then the whole thing caught fire.

I cursed, stumbling back. It was hot on my face, fueled by the oil, and I knew it was too late for me to put it out.

I looked back at the vent. I hadn’t been able to fit before, and now the ceiling was filling with smoke.

It wouldn’t work.

I scanned the hut franticly. I found no escape, but the fire was growing quickly, spreading across the floor and up the far wall.

I couldn’t die like this. Not by fire, not as one of Runehall’s.

I looked for loose boards. Everything was new and tight and secure. I needed a flaw. I searched for one frantically, but all I could come up with was a small gap where the floorboards didn’t quite meet.

It was all I had.

There was a fire poker back by the stove, and I grabbed it. My hurt wrist was no help while I jammed the tip into the space and tried to pry it wider.

The poker was almost too big. Again and again I struck the gap and dug my iron in. When I’d earned a small bit of space and the sweat was running into my eyes, I rocked the bar back and forth.

It gave slowly. I glanced back at the roaring fire.

Too slowly.

It was hot on my face, sending my hair back as waves of heat poured over me.

I doubled my efforts. Looking at the board I had yet to pull up, I put my whole body into the work. I ignored my wrist and heaved with everything I had, both hands, both arms, all my weight. I grit my teethwith effort. Panic swelled in my chest, and I swallowed it down, tried in vain to calm myself, swallowed it down again.

Bit by bit, the board began to pull up.