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Once again, I wondered if I should attack him. Yet, with a glance at that diamond, I held back. There was more to him than I could see, and I couldn’t gauge the risk.

There were undercurrents I hadn’t predicted, something important enough to garner the attention of Teyr and Ninti. There was a larger game—one I couldn’t guess at.

“I don’t know if this is working,” Eleanor whispered. Slowly, like every moment pained her, she lay down. Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Fight it,” Inarus whispered. “If you fall asleep again…”

“Do you have any more vitality potion?” Eleanor asked. “It might help.”

“It’s in my apartments.”

“Please bring me some.”

Inarus gave me a shifty look, considering.

Eleanor yawned, and her body relaxed, drifting. The Brand expanded enough to touch her chin.

“Go,” I commanded Inarus. “I’ll watch her.”

“Fine. I’ll be right back.” He moved in a rush, leaving the two of us alone.

I lunged to my sister’s side. “Oh, Eleanor, I’m so sorry,” I began my apologies. I had one chance to save her, and it had gone so wrong—

“Stop with your brotherly overprotectiveness.” Eleanor opened her eyes. Her posture shifted, stronger than before. She had been acting. “I gave us our distraction. We need to act now.”

She reached into a pocket and retrieved a handkerchief, needle, and thread. “Let me focus on this.”

While she worked, I explored the room’s dark corners, hopelessly searching for Ayla and the ashflower. There was no sight of her. My throat constricted.

“Don’t worry about her,” Eleanor hissed. “I no longer think we’ll need the rest of the ashflower. Not anymore. That fox, she changed the throne’s root. Iamgetting stronger. All we need…” she pulled her thread taut, knotting it off, “…is a final push.”

She handed me the spelled handkerchief. “Hold this against the root while I focus on overcoming the Brand. I’ve had this idea for a while, but I didn’t trust Inarus to help.”

Eleanor readied herself. Her Brand was already small enough to hide under the collar of her dress. She must have allowed it to grow as part of her act for Inarus. As usual, her control was impressive.

Through her act, I could see the weaknesses—the quiver to her knee, the way she tugged out her braid, quickly reknotting it with fresh intentions.

I folded the handkerchief and pressed it carefully where root met the tree—Eleanor’s spells responded best to orderliness—and waited for her to begin.

She inhaled. “Now.”

Eleanor lifted her cuffed wrist to her mouth, whispering something—a prayer or chant, I couldn’t tell. Her eyes closed, and she worked from the depths of her soul.

The root swelled as the Brand passed through it, ashen and bulbous. The bump passed under my hand, and I held the handkerchief taut, easing the root as it transmuted the Brand. The handkerchief transformed Inarus’s magic, breaking it down into its primary components, making them more digestible to the throne.

Scents of lilac and dense forest wafted from the throne. It was working. The handkerchief thinned as the root warmed.

Eleanor gasped. Her chin tilted to the ceiling, her eyes rolling back. She shook… and shook… She battled the last stubborn fragments of the Brand.

The root grew hotter, a resistor burning up. Desperate to help, I dove into the Underworld.

From a new perspective, I considered the magic we had created. Once the handkerchief had broken the Brand into its components, the throne could absorb most of it. Except there remained a fraction, the deadliest fraction—something indigestible.

When I used the ashflower to heal Ayla, it hadn’t been like this. The ashflower absorbed the Brand completely, withering once it was spent. It destroyed the Brand in its entirety.

In this case, indigestible components had become stuck in the root. The conduit had become clogged; the Brand had no way to flow.

Eleanor strained against it, trying to push the last of the Brand from her body. She squealed. Low at first, but soon she shrieked with frustration. Her body tensed, consumed by the painful effort.