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“Come with me,” she says. “Your mothers are inside.”

They run, with her protection, into the palace and I return to Florentius, skidding on my knees to catch him as he loses consciousness. His body is heavy and limp. His right arm has been clawed but his organs are all intact. Poison is heading rapidly for his heart, exertion moving it faster. At most, he has fifteen minutes.

Those children might have less than ten.

Stalls shift in the distance.

I haul Florentius onto my back, fight aching muscles, and drag him to the palace.

Crowds of masked aklos and aklas are gathered in a room filled with delicate table settings, tea cups and pots and plates. Most hover at the back, but some braver ones dare to watch the battle from the windows. Mothers are crying in relief, embracing their rescued sons and daughters.

I drag Florentius to the middle of a richly patterned carpet.

One mother’s relief turns to a frightened cry. “She’s not opening her eyes.”

“They’ve been poisoned,” I say, peeling off the top layer of my mask.

“Where are the mages?” she cries.

I stare at Florentius. “He and I are it.”

Another mother screams; she rushes forward with a small boy in her arms.

The rest are soon carried forward too.

Veronica checks their pulses. “Weak, but steady.”

I slam my eyes shut. This layer of my mask is capsulised angelica root and carefully prepared mustiva. Supposed to save a dozen. But the potency of this poison...

I can treat two, or...

I manipulate the layer back to its spiritual form, absorbing the herbs, stacking them into the antidote. I hover my palm over Florentius’s chest—

“My baby’s only seven years old. Please, you must help her.”

“Treat the young ones first. You must. You must.” Pleading cries become cries of outrage as magic seeps through my palms, aimed at Florentius—

An aklo tackles me from the side, pinning me to the floor, eyes alight with anger and injustice. “That man is a vitalian. He would do anything to save others. He’d want you to save those children.”

I struggle against his determined weight.

“Help the children first.”

“I can’t,” I say quietly. “I only have enough medicine for two children, or him.”

He stiffens. “Only two?”

Veronica grabs the back of the aklo’s robe and drags him off me. I haul in air, coughing, and scramble back to Florentius’s side. He hasn’t depleted himself of the antidote. “Saving him will giveallyour children a fighting chance.”

I force the spell into him, thick and fast. My body screams with the effort, shaking, sweating. Must be done.

I slap his face, and his eyes ping open.

I cry as I haul him into a hug. Then I thrust him back. “Five need antidotes. I’m depleted.”

He blinks, momentarily disorientated, then catches sight of the children and their distraught mothers. He spins into elegant action.

I pace a wall of teapots, cups, and saucers. If there are any more... I dare a glance outside. The tea room looks out onto a raging battle; I grip the ledge, scouring for Quin and his cane—there, near the fountain.