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“Is alive for now. Can’t say the same for that mercenary fellow, though. What was his name?”

“Kellyn.” I choke on my next breath. My limbs go limp. My mind blank.

But my heart—my heart breaks into a throbbing heap. Each beat sends an aching pain so exquisite through my body, I nearly collapse.

“That’s it,” Kymora says. “You have no one but me now, Ziva. Let me take care of you. Let me put your skills to use. Let’s build something great together.”

Live for yourself.

You give me hope.

Ziva, I love you.

I close my eyes, let Kellyn’s face fill the blackness behind them, let the memory of his voice fill my head.

I love you, I tell that image. And I will regret forever never saying it to his face.

I want to break down. To curl in on myself and weep for everything I’ve lost. But there is no time. Not when I still have a sister to protect. Not when the whole of Ghadra still depends on me. I still have things to fight for. I can’t quit yet.

The heat from the coal warms me from the outside in, and my eyelids fly open. On the wall, I can see a vein of iron winking in the firelight.

And all at once I realize what Petrik wants me to do.

He’s delusional!I want to scream. We are going to havewordswhen I see him next.

I can’t magic an entire mountain!

My knuckles turn white. The left on the torch, the right on my hammer.

“Back up, Temra,” I say, keeping my eyes on the warlord as I take a step away, putting more space between me and the danger.

“You’re going to run again?” Kymora asks, advancing a step. “How many people are you going to let die for you? First your parents. Then your sister. Your friends. Now everyone who fought for your cause. Is there nothing you hold dear? Nothing you’re unwilling to sacrifice?”

I continue to retreat, Temra keeping behind me, unwilling to blink and risk missing a movement from Kymora.

“Does this mine even have an exit?” the warlord asks. “You can run, but I will catch you. You’re exhausted from the fight. I haven’t even raised my sword yet. I’m fresh. I will overwhelm you.”

“Ziva,” Temra says, a note of fear entering her voice.

Kymora keeps pace with us, stepping around the mine cart, stepping between the two lines of burning coal.

“I have sacrificed nothing,” I say, answering Kymora’s earlier taunt. “I have fought for what I believe in. I have loved. I have lost. I havelived. But you? You missed out. Your son is one of the best men I know. You should have stayed close to him, loved him, learned from him. Perhaps you would have turned out better. You should have cared for the people under your protection, instead of seeking to overthrow them. You should have been content with the power you had. You should have lived for the people around you, instead of intent on conquering them.”

“Why?” Kymora says with a laugh. “I’m about to have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“No,” I tell her. “You’re about to die. You’re about to die fornothing.”

Kymora sighs. “I’m weary of this. Let’s be done with it, Ziva.”

Yes. Let’s be done.

I stand completely still, yet inside, I’m a raging inferno of emotions. Grief, rage, desperation, anxiety—always anxiety. They pound against my skin as though trying to burst free. They beat against my skull, trying to force me to examine them, to become completely overwhelmed by them.

I look to the walls, where the coals have heated the base of the iron deposits.

“Move,” I say, channeling all that emotional energy into the metal surrounding the warlord.

The iron vibrates, sending fissures up along the walls. A few thick clumps break free, the heat from the coals the only thing allowing me to manipulate them.