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“We stay and attempt to defend the city,” Hecate says. “Or we leave. Split into small groups, stay out of sight. Amber can continue with her training.”

Nice idea. But I’m not sure there’s anything else Hecate can teach me. I really wish there was. But as she once told me: magic is an individual thing. No two witches are the same.

“We stay and fight,” Thanouq says. He looks down at me from his considerable height with that look of…wonder still in his eyes. It’s starting to irritate me. “We can defend the city. We have a formidable weapon at our disposal now.”

Beside me Khaosti stiffens, and a low rumbling growl fills the air around him. I reach out and rest my hand on his thigh.

I wonder; would Thanouq force me to act? Does he think I’m a gun he can aim and fire at his enemies. Maybe he’d see it as his duty as defender of his people. But could he? I doubt it, but I really don’t want it to come to that.

“The decision is Amber’s,” Khaosti snarls. “And she’s not at your fucking disposal, asshole.”

Thanouq’s features harden. “Maybe you think she’s at yours?” Thanouq growls back. “Or your father’s. Who knows where your allegiance lies.”

They’re fighting over me. In other circumstances, it would be sort of sweet.

Khaosti leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow. “Actually, it’s the other way around. I am atherdisposal. Forever. Whatever she decides, I will make it happen.”

Now it’s my decision again. I still think it’s crazy but if I don’t say something then we might be here all week. “I decide…” To go or to stay? To run or to fight? The weight of it all pushes down on me until I’m crushed and can’t see a way forward. In the end I just don’t know which answer is right. So I say. “I decide, it’s time for lunch.” I turn to Khaos. “Please make it happen.”

Chapter 36

A Little Research Goes a Long Way

Nausea is my constant companion.

Back on Earth, it was the same. I’d wake in the night and have to run for the bathroom. If I say so myself, I hid it well. Not that Lissa, my crappy foster mother would notice anything. But I didn’t want Josh to worry. Or Zayne to realize what a total mess I was.

When I came back to Valandria, it got better—weird. But I think it’s because I no longer felt like I was all alone. I still had all this ‘‘saving the world” stuff churning in my mind, like a huge responsibility. But here in Valandria, there are lots of people all with the same “world saving” objective. It’s not just my responsibility anymore. I had this vague idea that I would learnall about my magic and then I’d be like some sort of weapon. And someone would just tell me what to do, then point me in the right direction and bam—the world is saved.

But it’s becoming increasingly clear that it’s not going to happen like that.

Everyone keeps looking at me as ifI’msupposed to tellthemwhat to do. Suddenly, it feels like my responsibility has multiplied a trillion times. And the nausea is back with a vengeance. Anxiety is eating away at me from the inside out.

I try to remember back to that moment in my meeting with Selene, when for one wonderful brief interlude, I could feel the immense power within me and everything and anything seemed possible.

It hadn’t lasted for long. It drained away as I looked at the battlefield and the carnage I’d created. And saw the look of horror on Zayne’s face. Now I can feel the power slumbering, and I know it will wake to my command but then what…

“You look pale,” Khaos says from beside me.

We’re on our way to yet another pointless meeting. Hecate will say “go”, Thanouq will say “stay”. I suspect the time for leaving is past. They are close now. According to the last report—Zayne did a high-level fly over—they were maybe just over a day’s march out and they are fanning out. Presumably, their plan is to surround the city, likely thinking to starve us out. It’s a hard position for them to attack, because we’re so high up with only one way in. But an easy place to hold to siege, because if we try to leave by that one way, they can pick us off.

“You were sick again this morning,” he adds when I don’t respond.

I stop, turn, and glare at him. “Were you listening at my bathroom door?”

“You were very loud.”

Ugh.

I walk on. “I’m scared. And when I’m scared, I throw up.”

“What are you afraid of?”

I stop again. Stupid question. “Everything.” I take a deep breath. “I’m afraid that I’ll get so pissed off in this meeting, that I’ll give in to my baser instincts and turn them all into toads.” It turns out that’s an easy spell.

A smile curls his lips. It’s weird—he’s smilier now than I’ve ever known him to be. Does he not know the pathetic girl he heard puking this morning is supposedly all that stands between us and the end of the world? “I’d like to see that. What else?”

I press my lips together, but maybe he’s the one person I can say this to. “I’m scared that I’m not strong enough to do what I need to do.”