Rowena had to shrug. “We need to get out of here and find your knights.” She sighed. “Though I wouldn’t mind staying underground after I find out that Ember and Camille are all right.”

  Sydney nodded. “After we find them, staying in the tunnels isn’t a bad idea, except for the fact that we don’t know our way around. At least up top, we can see where we’re going, even if we can still be ambushed.”

  And even when the sun and the open air could threaten to crush them. She doubted Sydney would agree with that, though. “Maybe we got lucky back in that sinkhole cavern, and the cave-in destroyed that workshop.”

  “If that’s the only one,” Sydney said with a snort.

  Rowena’s stomach shrank further. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  Sydney gave her a smug look, and Rowena wanted to punch her. “Glad to see I’m not the only one who’s overlooked some possibilities.”

  Wanted to punch her harder now, but she resisted, making herself think of Camille. “There are spells to locate reagents in the wild. Maybe I can use one to find other workshops.” At Sydney’s flinch, Rowena grinned. “Yes, a spell. I can use a magic spell because I am a witch helping the Knights of the Flame.” She leaned toward her. “Magic spells not that different from—”

  “Shut up.”

  Rowena chuckled. “Let me know when you’re ready.” She let a few moments pass. “For the spell. Or when you’re ready to learn more about your own magic.”

  * * *

  Sydney felt as if her brain were on fire. The thought that all the deaths the knights had suffered was merely a distraction for a Kell invasion force infuriated her. The idea of even more Kells following the few she’d encountered terrified her. The possibility of more workshops making abominations sickened her.

  And the insistence that heartfire was magic made her want to shove the Hawk down a dark hole.

  By her smirk, the Hawk knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “It’s destructive magic,” the Hawk said. “Magic based on emotions.”

  “Please, stop talking.”

  “I have to give you credit. I’m not very good at it because my emotions are usually all over the place.”

  Sydney rubbed the bridge of her nose and knew she wasn’t going to will her way out of this conversation. She could leave, head up the column and do something, anything, else, but she really hoped they could talk more about their current situation rather than magic or spells.

  But reason insisted that their current situation was up to its eyebrows in magic.

  “Anyone can learn heartfire,” she said, trying and only partially succeeding at not talking through her teeth. “Not everyone can be a witch.”

  “Sure, they can.” Rowena’s voice held a note of false joviality that made Sydney want to shove her even harder. “People who can master their emotions can cast destructive magic; those who are better at marshaling their thoughts and controlling their breathing can summon their life force and cast creation magic.” She leaned close. “And both are witches.”

  Part of that made sense, even though her superiors had always told her that witches kept magic for their own use, that only someone born with the potential to be a witch could become one, but everyone could cast heartfire. It was a level playing field.

  But that wasn’t precisely true. Some knights were hopeless at it. She imagined them being able to breathe the right way and control their thoughts and cast…magic instead. She couldn’t bring herself to use creative and destructive. As far as she was concerned—as far as all knights should have been concerned—heartfire wasn’t destructive. It was defensive. There was a difference.

  “You could learn more, you know,” the Hawk said.

  Sydney rolled her eyes. “Oh, how lovely that you think I have mental discipline.”

  “Oh, I don’t.” When Sydney glared, the Hawk smiled, no doubt trying for disarming but looking like a viper. “I meant, you can learn other destructive spells besides channeling flame.”

  Sydney pulled back, aghast. “I can’t…I’m not…”

  The Hawk rolled her eyes.

  Sydney fought not to gag. It was unbelievable, utterly impossible. She was not a witch. She could not learn spells. She was a knight; knights could use heartfire. They were not wielding magic. They were not witches. And she wouldn’t entertain the thought of knowing spells.

  A flash of the battle surfaced in her memory. Many of the knights seemed weaker than the horde of monsters and Kells plaguing them. And Sydney could no longer argue that there wasn’t some other, larger enemy she hadn’t yet seen. The thing that brought down the cavern on top of them had been rather…dragon-shaped.

  She had a duty to defend the people of Arnvild, her fellow knights, Camille, Ember, and—if it came to it—the Hawk. If someone offered her a new style of martial combat, she’d learn it, wouldn’t she? She’d seek to master any new weapon that would help. Why not this?

  Her very soul rebelled. Too many certainties had crumbled lately. Her worldview had been challenged so many times in the past weeks. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

  Then she thought of her friends, her family, all the people that she loved. Ember, whom she knew she could love if given the chance.

  Sydney sighed. She worshiped the truth; she desired it in all things. And here was a chance to learn whether heartfire was magic or not, whether using it made her a witch. If she could learn other…spells…she would have her answer.

  “Show me,” she mumbled.

  The Hawk leaned closer. “Beg pardon?”

  “You are so lucky there isn’t a big hole around.” Sydney took a deep breath. “Please, if you would be so kind.”

  To her credit, the Hawk dropped the smirk quickly. “Settle in. This might be difficult.”

  “You’ve no idea,” Sydney muttered.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Camille awoke with a snort. When she’d closed her eyes, the sun coming into their tunnel from a hole above had been fading. Now, it seemed as dim, but she could tell it was growing brighter by the moment.

  Ember leaned into her line of sight. “You’re awake. Good. I was afraid you were going to sleep more when you already slept all night, but now it’s dawn.”

  Camille blinked slowly, trying to parse the words. As she sat up, she lamented the lack of coffee and her quiet apartment. And the fact that she’d slept on stone. Her neck and back ached, though, surprisingly, her side felt better. Maybe her rib hadn’t been broken after all.

  That did nothing to help the rest of her, though.

  Ember chattered on, but Camille’s brain refused to listen. Instead, she looked at their wounded knight. His color seemed a little better, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. He was breathing deeply and evenly, but when she tried to rouse him, his eyelids only fluttered.

  “How are we going to get him out?” she asked after a yawn.

  Ember shrugged. “Easy.” She hauled the knight upright, letting his limp body lean on her shoulder.

  “Gently.” Camille moved to help, and as soon as she’d taken some of the knight’s weight, Ember let go so the knight leaned on Camille. “Hey!”

  “Just one second.” Ember jumped up, hauled herself out of the hole, then lay down on the edge. She reached down just as Camille began to sag and grabbed one of the knight’s arms. While he let out a groan, she pulled him from the hole as if he weighed nothing, and they disappeared out of sight.

  Camille’s heart thudded even as she marveled at Ember’s strength. As seconds went by, and Ember didn’t reappear, Camille licked her dry lips. Surely, Ember wasn’t going to leave her there.

  Camille straightened, trying to ignore her fear. She wasn’t helpless. She crouched, then jumped, missed the rock Ember had caught, and came down in a stumble. Her cheeks burned, but she wouldn’t let one failed attempt stop her. She tried again and caught the lip, her elation rising.

  Until she tried to pull up, and her body stubbornly refused. She grunted, thinking she couldn’t weigh that much, but her arms felt dead. She dangled, swinging gently, and her fingers were already getting tired.

  A shadow blocked the light, someone seized her wrists, and she flew from the tunnel to lie in the grass. Ember crouched beside her, grinning. “Were you tired of waiting? I was trying to make the knight comfortable.”

  Camille breathed hard as if she’d done all the pulling. She fought the urge to grouse. “Thanks.”

  To her credit, Ember didn’t mention Camille’s lack of muscle. She helped her up, and Camille stared at the rolling hills and rocky spurs surrounding them. The knight lay nearby, still breathing if not otherwise moving.

  “Where should we go?” Ember asked. In the daylight, Camille realized how cute she was. Slim and muscular, she wore leather, had light brown skin, bright green eyes, and a mop of short, unkempt red hair. A row of earrings dangled from her right ear, and a pale scar stretched across her face, but it did nothing to mar her pixie-like features.

  Camille looked away so she wouldn’t be caught staring, but when she glanced back, Ember was studying her. Ember smiled again, was probably bursting with questions, if Rowena was to be believed, but she held them in.

  “I have no idea,” Camille admitted. She took another look at the nothingness of the moors. A haze had built up to the east, and the horizon had become lost in the glow of the rising sun. She couldn’t see Rowena’s mountain, but the gentle hills hid most of the north and west. As she tried to think through fog, she missed her coffee again.

  “Look.”

  Camille turned to find a troop of people skirting one of the rocky tors. The meager light glinted off metal, and Camille recognized a pack of knights. They seemed to spot each other at the same time; one lifted a hand just as Camille did.

  A recognizable someone. Bennia, the knight from the troop that Camille and Rowena had originally joined with.

  And who thought she was a lost idiot and Rowena was a milkmaid. Great.

  “We looked everywhere for you,” Bennia called as she got closer. She smiled, then frowned as if torn between worry and anger. “You weren’t supposed to leave your hiding place.”

  Yes, they had promised that, but she and Rowena had only wanted to get away. She didn’t think it would do any good to admit that now.

  “We ran from an attack,” she said quickly. “And we found some friends, then got separated again.”

  Bennia reached them, her expression skeptical, but when she saw the downed knight, she hurried to his side.

  “He was hit in the head,” Camille said. “I’ve done what I can for him, but…”

  Another of the knights kneeled and examined him. Bennia stood and bowed to Ember. “Sergeant Bennia Aziz, at your service.”

  Ember grinned and bowed back. “I’m Ember. I wouldn’t say I’m at your service, but I like to help when I can.”

  Bennia seemed charmed, grinning in return before she turned a questioning look on Camille. “What happened to the milkmaid?”

  “She’s one of the people I got separated from. Ember is a friend of Major Sydney Blakely, and I think the milkmaid wound up with her.” She gave Bennia an abbreviated version of events, leaving out the magic, the corpses, and the accusations against Sir Robert. She’d feel better mentioning that with Rowena and Sydney at her back.

  Bennia seemed grim as she nodded. “We’ll find them.” She turned to her troop. “Spread out. Keep in sight and earshot and look for tunnels.”

  “If you call for the other knights, you might find the dragon people,” Ember said.

  “Dragon?” Bennia lifted an eyebrow.

  Camille had described the wings and claws but hadn’t used that word. She sighed. She was very tired of knightly condescension about the possibility of dragons. “Yes, Sergeant. Dragon people. People with dragon wings and dragon claws and dragon teeth. They were akin to dragons. Dragonkin. If we meet them again, you should ask them all about it.”

  Bennia stepped back, blinking before scattering her knights. Three of them lifted the injured man and carried him along as they searched. When Bennia turned back to Camille, she said, “You two stay close,” before joining the rest, who seemed as if they’d search while they walked.

  Camille took Ember’s arm, and they walked along a bit separate from the others. If they didn’t go along, Bennia would only want to know why, and they had a better chance of finding Sydney and Rowena with more eyes.

  Ember laughed and gave Camille a squeeze. “I’m so glad you said dragon so many times. I like the word dragonkin rather than dragon people. But who is this milkmaid?”

  Camille sputtered a laugh and related the whole story. Ember threw her head back and guffawed, garnering some reproachful looks from the knights, but she didn’t stop for a minute or two and wiped her streaming eyes.

  “I was reluctant to like you, but now I’m glad that I decided to,” Ember said.

  Camille frowned but nodded. “Thanks?” At least she was honest. And whatever her reasons for not wanting to like Camille, she appeared to be over it. That was good. If she and Rowena stayed together for any length of time, Camille wouldn’t feel like an unwanted stepmother. “I’d like us to be friends and not just because of Rowena.”

  Ember’s smile was heartbreakingly beautiful. “It is nice to have friends.”

  As the day wore on, their band of knights discovered stragglers in the various tunnels, knights who’d been with Sydney and others who’d been wandering around, looking for anyone. They all banded together, the injured carried or helped along. Camille peered eagerly at each newcomer, but none were Sydney or Rowena. She kept telling herself they were fine; Ember had seen them reach safety. They had to be all right.

  If the dragonkin hadn’t found them again.

  A scream came from the right, and one of the knights fell back as a dragonkin rushed at them from a tunnel, its claws moving like scythes. The knight fell back as others raced to join him, but cries erupted from all around as more dragonkin rushed into the light.

  Ember’s arm shot out, moving Camille behind her as she turned in a circle with her sword drawn. She guided them toward a larger group of knights, and when one dragonkin came too close, she slashed it across the back, nearly severing one of its wings. It staggered sideways with a howl like a saw over rusty metal.

  Camille clapped her hands over her ears and tried to keep calm while staying out of Ember’s way. She tried to keep watch, but Ember turned and whirled so fast, she was like a tornado, and she saw any danger before it reached them.

  Bennia was calling for the knights to rally, and clumps of them moved toward one another. Camille and Ember reached one, and Camille didn’t need to be told to find the middle of the circle and stand with the wounded. One of the knights stumbled back, screaming as a set of claws raked through his shoulder. Camille caught him and lowered him to the ground. She cried out at the sight of so much blood and yanked his tabard free of his belt, using it to staunch the wound. He shrieked again and met her eyes, his filled with agony as he clutched at her.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she muttered over and over, breathless. It wasn’t okay at all, far from it. She glanced around for something to help but saw only other wounded people and the boots of those still on their feet. “I need…I just need…”

  A miracle. She wasn’t a healer; she had only rudimentary knowledge, and this was much more serious than the fight at the village. There she’d wound bandages over small wounds and washed others with alcohol. She’d kept things clean and suggested stitches, but this…

  The knight slumped in her arms, his eyes turning glassy.

  “No, no.” Camille pressed harder on his wound, but the tabard was already soaked. Blood oozed out over her hands, into her lap. “No, someone help!”

  But they were busy fighting, and she stared at them helplessly, wishing the enemy would disappear. When no miracle occurred, she laid the knight down gently, and the noise from the fight seemed to drift away, taking feeling with it and chilling her to the bone.

  Do something.

  Yes, what she needed was a task. Something to do. The injured knight she’d helped in the tunnel seemed perilously close to someone’s feet. She dragged him toward the center. Another knight was sitting on the ground, clutching her face. Camille looked for a discarded pack, took a canteen hanging from the side, and forced the knight’s head up to wash it. The knight had a claw mark along her cheek and hairline, but her eye was still there. Lucky. Camille yanked out some cloth without looking to see what it was, balled it up, and helped the knight press it to the wound. Good, that was good.

  She moved a few more wounded people, focusing on their faces and not on the feelings held by a tremulous dam inside her. The sounds of the combat seemed to fade. Each moment poked another hole in that barrier, and she knew it couldn’t hold.

  Ember appeared, her mouth opening and closing as she looked up and down Camille’s body. She frowned, concern writ plainly on her features, but Camille couldn’t hear her.

  She tried to speak.

  Her personal dam shattered.

  She threw her arms around Ember and wept into her neck until sounds began to ease back.

  Ember’s arms were strong around her. “Are you hurt?” Ember asked softly.

  “No…it was…it…”

  “Shh. I know. I felt the same once and have no doubt I will again. You can cry all you want, my friend.”

  Camille wanted to get lost in the sympathy in her voice, but she forced herself to stand on her own and take a few deep breaths. “Are you hurt?” she managed. Her throat hurt as if she’d been swallowing rocks, and her grief and horror still tumbled inside her, making her nauseated.

  “No,” Ember said. Around them, the knights were tending each other with more skill than Camille had ever shown. “Don’t panic.”

  Camille nearly laughed. The fight seemed to be over. What was there to panic about now? She hoped Bennia was all right, hoped all the rest were all right, all but the one who’d died in her arms.