Sixty-Two

Jordan

With Dlaminaugh at our backs, we ride fast until we reach the patch of conifers where we first cloaked. I tug hard on the reins, and the horse comes to an abrupt halt. My brother’s heart races as he stares over my shoulder. Despite the haze and the distance, it’s clear the Sphere is still bleeding. It shimmers and my grip tightens on the reins. What’s happening? We slip out of the shade and get closer. I spot a body on the ground that looks a lot like Darragh Marionne. I look away. What an awful way to die.

Quell.

Darragh is dead. Quell is Headmistress.

My heart rends. I’ve failed to protect her before. I won’t fail again.

“This changes everything,” I say. We’re no longer just protecting magic for the sake of magic.

My brother stiffens at my back.

“You understand that, don’t you?”

He hesitates, and I turn as best I can in the saddle so he can look me in the eye. “Quell’s life is tethered to the Sphere now. If it empties, she—” But I cannot say it. I will not say it. Ever again.

“I know!” To be so close to the revenge he’s long hungered for, just to have it snatched away.

“I’m sorry, Yagrin.” I hope he knows how much I mean it. I hate how long it took me to see the Order for what it is. “I wanted to see the look on Beaulah’s face when she realized her plan would not work. And this was truly the end.”

“But she’s won again,” Yagrin spits, and his words stoke a flame that’s already burning in me.

“Not yet.”

We risk riding closer. Duncan’s and Marionne’s forces are everywhere. As the haze around the Sphere begins to clear, I pull back on the reins, careful to stay unseen. Beaulah leads Quell from Darragh’s body toward the looming Sphere, where Draguns appear to be waiting.

“She is going to make Quell drain the Sphere,” I say.

“Won’t that kill her?” my brother asks.

“She must have a plan to put the magic in something.”

“But what?”

I don’t know. I need to get closer.

“Let me at her,” he says.

“No.” The last thing I need is my brother dying.

“I’ll distract her. You get Quell out of here. We can meet up somewhere safe.”

“The Tavern? The one near Chateau Soleil.”

I let Yagrin down and he disappears into the haze. I hear the commotion near the Sphere before I’m close to it. I kick in my heels and the horse trots. Darkness is a thick fog at the heart of the fighting. But the closer I get, the clearer I can see that the top of the glassy orb is empty. Black matter seeps from the hole at its base. The magical innards blow away in a fine mist, evaporating.

“Easy,” I say to my mount. I swallow as I approach. It feels like eyes are following me through the shadows. When I find Quell, my heart stops. Beaulah has her in her grip. She holds Quell with one hand and cradles a pulsing red stone in the other.

“Go on,” she urges. “Make it bleed faster.”

Quell doesn’t respond. Something about the way she staggers forward doesn’t seem like her. I feel for her emotions inside my chest, but there’s nothing there. She is calm, or half-dead already. I have to act fast.

“Beaulah Mavis Perl,” I say. “By order of the Dragunhead and the Prestigious Order of Highest Mysteries, you are under arrest for dereliction of duty, Uniform Code of Dragun Justice, article four, and conspiracy to commit treason, article seven.”

“I don’t see a pendant around your neck.” She smiles darkly and strokes my pendant gem. “It’s grown nicely, thanks to this one here.” Quell meets my eyes, and I finally can feel her again. Panic. Fear.

“I think I’ll put it on my mantel when I’m finished.”

“Do you agree to come peacefully?”

Beaulah’s smug expression melts into a glare.

“Get off that horse and face me like the man you pretend to be.”

I tighten my grip on Daring’s reins.

“As I thought. Still the coward.”

I dismount. I cannot be rash. That’s what she wants. I grab the cuffs in my pocket and hold them out to her. “You can come along with dignity, or I will drag you from this graveyard by your throat if I must.”

She marches toward me. Daring trots off to a faraway whistle. Beaulah’s Draguns break formation around the Sphere and instead tighten around me. I walk backward away from them. They move with me. Away from the Sphere. Away from Quell, who stands there staring at me in confusion.

“Mother, watch him,” Felix says. Yani is beside him. She avoids my gaze. Amid the distraction, Quell slinks backward, farther away from the Sphere. I spot Yagrin with Daring’s reins in hand, beckoning for her attention.

“Even they are afraid for you,” I say to Beaulah, desperate to keep their attention straight ahead, on me.

“He killed Charlie,” Yani spits.

Beaulah’s jaw works. “It’s your arrogance, not your competence, that inspires you to behave so recklessly, Jordan. I know you better than you know yourself.” Her words are poison. Still, my gut sloshes.

“You’re wrong.” I stop walking.

They come closer. Beaulah still holds her stone. Felix and Yani stick to Beaulah’s flanks. Daring whinnies in the distance, but I keep my eyes fixed on Beaulah. In my periphery, my brother and Quell swing into the saddle. My heart squeezes.

“I’m not the boy you raised anymore. Nor am I the Dragunhead’s. I’m arresting you because I want to and I can.”

Felix puts himself between us.

“Mother, let me cut him,” Yani says. Beaulah shushes her. Yani watches with more envy than anger.

“Give us some space,” Beaulah says, her head swiveling. Then her brows slash downward. She tightens her grip on the stone cradled in her arm. “Where is she? Where is Quell?” She shoves Felix. “Standing around trying to protect me from this imbecile instead of keeping an eye on the girl. Get the dogs and find her now.”

Draguns shift to shadows, and it’s just the two of us.

“You’ll die a Wexton. Never a Perl.” She assumes I care because she does. It’s the only thing left she has to hold over me.

“And you’ll die alone. With no witnesses. No legacy. And no power.” I roll up my sleeves and summon the cold.