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Who said I couldn’t become a repellent for magic, too, and trick those red flares into believing there was nothing here to destroy?

‘Two,’ I heard Beyla say, the frail sound of her voice ages removed from my spinning mind.

‘Wait.Wait. Doralis?’ I spun around, finding her with her back pressed against the wall, eyes wide with fear. Not how I’d known her at the previous battle at this court, but then again, finding your magic suddenly malfunctioning was probably enough to make even the most battle-hardened individual waver. ‘Please change my dress to mother-of-pearl, will you?’

‘Change— What?’ Her glance at Beyla carried obvious meaning –has she gone mad?‘To—’

‘Mother-of-pearl,’ I repeated, flexing my fingers. ‘Yes. And keep changing it back if I manage to drain it, alright?’

She released a befuddled laugh even as she obediently flattened her hand against the pale yellow of the plastered sandstone walls. ‘Why don’t you do—’

‘Can’t do it anymore. Godsworn magic.’ I leapt three feet back to avoid another blistering attack from the fae crowding around the gate; outside, their commanders were yelling at them to stop dithering, to go in and justgetthe little bitch. ‘Now, Doralis.

I hadn’t known I could sound so much like Agenor – that same single-minded quality that wouldn’t allow for delay or objections. It did the trick. Yellow flashed around me, and my red dress suddenly grew smooth and shimmering, reflecting the morning sunlight in a million colours at once.

‘Keep renewing it,’ I snapped and drew.

No magic.I imagined a flimsy layer of iridescence enveloping me, the same powers I’d used to deflect every ray of red sent my way during the battle at Tolya. Imagined how that shower of destructive magic would bounce off me, harmless as raindrops sliding off leaves – how I would walk and walk and walk, and none of them would ever harm me.

Rays of red burst in through the gate again, aiming for me and every spot around me.

No magic.

For a moment, I saw nothing but colour, nothing but violence as the magic struck … and nothing happened.

No pain. No blood. Not a single ruffled hair on my head. I let out a high-strung laugh and stepped forward, welcoming the next surge of their attack with the iridescence tingling up my left arm –no magic, and here I was, the human equivalent of alf steel, walking through their firing line as if their powers were nothing but a harmless drizzle.

Itworked. It fuckingworked.

Cries of confusion went up amidst their ranks. I took another step forward, preparing to run. If I could just get to Creon this way – well, I’d figure out how to get the two of usoutagain once I’d managed that. A problem for a future version of me. For now—

Magic flashed again.

Pain bloomed through me, a venomous sting just beneath my left ear.

I jumped back instinctively, right hand flying to the injured spot and coming away red and sticky –fuck. Where had my magic gone?

No time to think. A sea of crimson lit up in the corner of my eye, and it was all I could do to dive out of the way, landing with a painful smack in Doralis’ sheltered corner. Outside, people were shouting –forward, go in, go get her. The blood was trickling down from my neck onto my dress now …

My dull, dark pink, decidedly non-pearlescent dress.

‘Doralis!’ I hissed, frustration burning under my skin. I’d been so close.Sodamned close, and then I’d failed for a reason as needless as a lack of fuel? ‘I said you needed to renew it every time I—’

‘Iknow,’ she whimpered, trying desperately to heal the gash beneath my ear. Still the magic wouldn’t flow well; only afterthree attempts did the pain soften a little. ‘I tried to restore it, but all magic was bouncing off on you! Your dress resisted all the yellow I threw at it!’

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

‘Emelin?’ Beyla yelled from the other side of the doorframe, the undertone below my name a clear warning to either start thinking or prepare for departure. A fae male from the front line tried to jump in through the gate, only to find himself skewered on one of her swords the next moment.

So close. I only needed a way to keep drawing. Something not attached to me, but easily within reach of my left hand while I crossed an entire courtyard – hell, that didn’t sound doable. Something better, then. Something—

My gaze fell to my feet.

My poor, bare feet.

Was I going insane now, or was it pure, undiluted brilliance turning the air in my lungs to fire? I’d only ever drawn through my hands.Everyonedrew through their hands. But Creon had sucked the colour from every single surface around him, that day he’d nearly blown up Lyn’s library, and if he could do it, then who saidIcouldn’t do it if only I dared to give up on the safe restraints that guided my magic as I knew it?