“WE’RE NOT YOURS to command,” Ji told Brace, and opened his fists to show two boot baubles, glittering with emeralds, rubies, and pearls.
“Those—” Brace looked at his court boots. “Those are mine!”
“He took them when he kowtowed,” Chibo fluted in surprise.
“You want to know why dragons hoard treasure?” Ji asked Roz, drawing on the heat of the gems in his hands. “Because we need jewels to make fire.”
Lava surged through his arms to his chest, rising like a volcano into his head. The world turned red, and Proctor screamed, “Take them, prince, now! Kill them!”
The water spear thrust toward Roz—and pillars of flame erupted from Ji’s eyes and roared across the pool.
Brace stiffened in terror, and the water spear stopped inches from Roz. Sally tackled Chibo away from another branch while Proctor jumped in front of the flames to protect Brace—and a shield of Mr. Ioso’s white light crackled into place around both of them.
Ji’s flames dimmed when they struck the shield. A palm tree withered behind Mr. Ioso, and he fired arrows of white light at Ji.
Sally bounded forward to protect Ji. But for once, he didn’t need protection. The gems turned to coals in his fists and the flames erupting from his eyes burned the arrows into vapor. More tree limbs slashed at him, but he swept his gaze in a burning arc, shriveling the branches with lashes of flame.
Proctor prowled closer, his dagger held high. When Ji blasted him, the blade absorbed the fire. Ji poured more heat into his flames—and iron darts whipped past his ear. He grunted in alarm and swept his fiery gaze around the pool, scattering soldiers and dart throwers. A palm tree exploded into flames and one of Brace’s sleeves caught fire.
Mr. Ioso raised his white-light shield and Brace clenched his fists—
“Ji!” Roz rumbled. “Watch out!”
When Ji spun sideways, a water spear thrust past his shoulder. He unleashed another barrage of flames, but Proctor still battled closer, his beard smoldering and his eyes as black as death.
“On my honor!” Sally growled, bounding at Proctor. “You shall not touch him!”
Her ears flat against her furry head, she vaulted one writhing tree limb, hurdled another—and a bolt of white light blasted her. She staggered, blood trickling down her snout. The tip of a thrusting water spear pierced her side—and Roz scooped her into her granite-flecked arms.
Proctor slashed at Roz, opening a cut on her forearm with his red-glowing dagger. “Kill the snake first, my prince!” he snarled.
Brace thrust two more water spears at Ji. One tore through the air an inch from Ji’s head, and he blasted the other one before trying to force Proctor backward with whips of fire. Flames licked at Proctor’s jacket and his hand blistered on his dagger, but he kept coming.
Roz bellowed, “Sally—knees, knees!”
Which, frankly, didn’t help. Even as a volcano spewed from his eyeballs, Ji wondered what in the moons Roz was babbling about.
Proctor blocked a column of flame, then loomed in front of Ji. A watery branch unfurled behind Ji, cutting off his retreat. As Proctor sliced toward his throat, the water spear thrust at Ji’s spine and—
“Now!” Roz yelled.
A furball rammed into the back of Ji’s knees. He sprawled to the ground just as the branch surged forward in a killing strike. It flashed over his head and stabbed Proctor in the chest.
Brace shrieked and Proctor gasped. The skin on his face wrinkled. His teeth lengthened and fused together. His shirt bulged—and two belly-arms burst through the silk.
Turning him into a goblin.
The Diadem Rite drained Proctor’s life, and his humanity flowed into Brace. He shrank and writhed, turning into a misshapen goblin. Finally, the branch withdrew from his chest, and he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
“Stab the beasts!” Mr. Ioso bellowed. “Kill them!”
“I will protect the realm.” Brace’s words carried over the crackle of flames and the shouts of soldiers. “I will protect my people. Whatever the cost.”
Mr. Ioso’s eyes glowed white. “You’ll never take the throne while they live!”
“Then they shall die,” Brace said, his silver diadem glimmering.
He seemed to shine with purpose: more real than real, more human than human. He raised his arms and dozens of branches surged from the water tree; an unstoppable flood, an onslaught of spears.
Ji heard the roar of a thousand dragons. His flesh turned to lava, his mind turned to flames. He gathered all his fear and rage—all his love and hope—into one scorching glare. But instead of blasting the branches, he aimed at the trunk of the watery tree.
The blackened gems burned to ash in his fists and the tree boiled into vapor. Every branch, every twig, every inch of the tree frothed into an unearthly white mist. The world turned silver and scalding. Soldiers screamed curses, Brace shouted orders, water hissed and spewed. Steam billowed, blindingly thick.
Ji couldn’t see—he couldn’t stand. The pool wobbled and he fell to his knees on the rippling surface, a husk of himself, exhausted but unburned.
“This way!” Chibo fluted, hidden by the billowing steam. “Follow me!”
“You can’t see!” Sally said.
“My wings can feel the way!”
“Stay close!” Roz said, and Ji felt her four-fingered hand wrapping his arm. “I have Ji.”
The pool turned to jelly beneath them. “Nin,” he gasped.
“I have the urn too,” Roz said, dragging Ji through the fog.
“The water’s low enough,” Sally’s voice growled. “Let’s dive in!”
“No,” Ji whispered.
“What?”
“We’re not leaving,” he said, dizzy and weak. “Not yet.”
Sally growled. “What are you talking about, you doolally lizard?”
“Make lots of noise like . . . we’re jumping in,” he told Sally.
For a moment, nothing happened. The steam billowed and the water sloshed. Then Sally shouted: “This way, quick! Everyone dive into the pool! Dive in!”
“Throw in . . . driftwood,” Ji murmured to Roz. “So they hear . . . splashes. And once they think we’re gone, follow Chibo . . . to the street.”
“Why aren’t we leaving?” Roz asked.
“Because we’re not done here,” Ji said. “Not yet.”