Ember’s grip around her shoulders turned to steel. “There he is. Try not to be scared, okay? Don’t let him know what we know. That’s what Rowena would say.”

  Camille frowned and turned, ready to ask what Ember was talking about, but she spotted Sir Robert at the same time.

  * * *

  Sitting off to the side of the knightly gathering, Camille listened in surprised silence as the knights praised Sir Robert for swooping in with a handful of officers and saving the day from the dragonkin. And some of the knights who’d just fought had been with Sydney; they’d heard her denounce him, but they rejoiced along with everyone else, no doubt happy to think it all had been a mistake.

  Ember sat by Camille’s side. “What do we do?” she asked from the side of her mouth, a move that seemed very obvious.

  Camille shook her head. In her mind’s eye, she kept seeing the knight who’d had his shoulder ripped out, and her shock blunted any surprise or indignation. Blood had soaked her skirt and turned tacky on her hands, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be clean of it.

  No, no; she made herself think of something else.

  Sir Robert caught her eye and smiled, an oily, satisfied smile.

  He knew something about her, maybe how she’d revealed his treachery to Rowena, maybe how Sydney planned a coup.

  And he didn’t care.

  She shut her eyes and made herself look at the other knights, trying to see what else she could do. Besides the one with the torn shoulder, it looked as if two others had died, and the knights were already burying them as best they could in the limestone and shallow earth. Others had cobbled together stretchers and had the wounded well in hand.

  “Are you all right?” Ember asked.

  Camille’s chest felt tight, and she wondered if this panicky, trapped feeling was the same as Rowena experienced whenever she ventured outdoors. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Wait,” Ember said quietly. “That’s all we can do.” She squeezed Camille’s arm. “I’m with you. I’m your friend. I hope everything turns out okay.”

  Camille breathed a laugh that wanted to become a sob, but she beat it down. “Me, too. I’m glad you’re here, friend.”

  She and Ember moved away from the wounded and dead. Camille had hoped they could simply walk away from the busy knights, but several stood as perimeter guards, and they warned everyone to stay close. Leaving would cause a definite stir, and Camille wasn’t ready to answer questions or try to force her way free. Instead, she had to listen to Sir Robert tell the tale about how he and a few officers had been captured but managed to make a heroic escape.

  With barely a scratch.

  Camille sneered, desperate to denounce him, but most of the knights wouldn’t believe her, might even take her for an enemy. They might not kill her, but she had no doubt they would restrain her, probably with many apologies and explanations about how it was for her own safety. Then Sir Robert could arrange an “attempted escape” which would leave her and Ember dead.

  When the wounded were ready, the knights began to march, shepherding Camille and Ember along. Bennia found them and rejoiced that they remained alive. She walked near their backs as if guarding them. She wouldn’t let them leave easily, if only from her sense of honor.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Maybe we can slip away,” Ember whispered. “If we work our way toward the fringe of the group.”

  Camille nodded, but her stomach dropped when Sir Robert fell back through the ranks to walk beside them.

  He gave Ember a curious look before speaking to Camille. “Dashed sorry you’ve been drawn into this, librarian. Stick close to us, and you’ll be safe enough.” His smile turned her stomach, but she kept her tongue.

  “Because you’ve teamed up with a dragon?” Ember asked quietly.

  Camille burst into a coughing fit, surprised beyond curses.

  Sir Robert’s eyes widened, then he chuckled. “My dear lady, what an imagination you have. Who ever heard of such a thing?” He leaned close, confident smile still in place. “But I know who you are, my scarred friend, and who your friends are.” He glanced at Camille. “None of you will stop us from eliminating the witches.”

  “Even those working for you?” Camille said when her coughing was done. If they weren’t going to keep quiet… “I saw the workshop and the dragonkin using magic.”

  His grin only widened. “Again, such imagination.”

  “We could tell everyone,” Ember said.

  Camille held her breath, not sure that daring him like that was a good idea.

  He shrugged. “Feel free. It won’t change anything. In fact, everything you do is completely beneath my notice.” He marched toward the head of the column again.

  Ember half drew her sword, staring at his unprotected back. Camille put a hand on her arm, stopping her. “We can’t start a fight with all the knights.”

  Ember frowned but nodded and sheathed her blade.

  “Right now, we need to get away and find our friends, so be on the lookout for the opportunity.” He seemed rattled, if the hasty exit was any indication. On the one hand, it satisfied her to think he might be nervous, but on the other, he’d watch them closer if he really thought them a threat.

  * * *

  Ember had never been a fan of waiting, but marching along with Sir Robert—who they all knew was bad—until he attacked them made her skin crawl and her shoulders tighten to the point that she had to fight not to hunch.

  If she bolted or fought back, she didn’t think they could stop her, not now when she knew how much faster and stronger she was. The problem was Camille.

  Ember fought the urge to sigh. Just how many times on this adventure would her problem be Camille? Except now it wasn’t that she disliked Camille or wished her harm. No, if something bad happened to her, Rowena would be sad, and Sydney would be sad, and Ember would even be sad. Camille seemed to care about people she didn’t know, which seemed like the mark of a good person, and she’d wept over the dead, which Ember could understand.

  And she didn’t want Sydney anymore, which was the best. That was selfish, but it still felt even better than Camille wanting Rowena, which was nice.

  Finding someone who liked Rowena had been Ember’s plan from the beginning, though she’d get no credit. In fact, admitting that she’d switched the witchstone because she wanted Camille and Rowena to get together would probably get her yelled at, and then Rowena would be all awkward and snappish, and Camille might leave, and Sydney might want to follow her to see if she was okay, then they’d both be mad at Rowena, and everything would fall apart like an old husk after a bad fall.

  So, best to keep quiet about her plans and make sure Camille didn’t die.

  No attacking the knights, then.

  But maybe she could still get away.

  She’d once read that it was the duty of captives to escape. She wasn’t sure who that duty was to, exactly, but she liked the idea because it was better than waiting. Camille might not be as fast as her, but Ember could grab her and run. It might not slow her down too much.

  Camille might still get hurt.

  Escape alone, then?

  Would Camille be all right by herself? If the knights intended to kill them, they should have attacked already. Bennia seemed to like Camille, and some of the others did, too. Camille could claim to be innocent of any escape plan, just as she’d been in the story where Rowena had been a milkmaid.

  Hilarious. She nearly laughed again.

  “Where in the seven bells are we even going?” Camille muttered.

  Ember winced. Camille didn’t talk from the side of her mouth like she was supposed to in captive situations. “Looking for the other knights?”

  Camille blinked. “You look really obvious when you talk like that. Just speak quietly.”

  “The stories all say—”

  “We’re not wandering around peeking into holes,” Camille said, clearly not wanting to know the correct way to converse surreptitiously. “I think Sir Robert has a destination in mind.”

  After a glance around, Ember thought so, too. “We might not have much time, then. If we’re going to get away…”

  Camille frowned hard. “How?”

  “I’m fast. I can see in the dark.” She nodded ahead to where one of the moorland’s many tunnels opened to the surface.

  Camille’s eyes widened before she nodded. “I’ll create a distraction.”

  Ember fought the urge to take a step away in surprise. Part of her had been certain that Camille would argue or want to go with her or be angry that Ember was leaving her alone. Ember’s estimation grew. Volunteering to stay so Ember could get away was something Rowena would do, though she’d probably light someone on fire in order to accomplish it. “What are you going to do?” she asked, excitement warming her belly. The tunnel was now close enough to reach.

  “How do you feel about a fake fight?”

  “A—”

  “Just act surprised. I won’t hurt you. And please, don’t hit back.”

  “Hit?” Her mind whirled. “I’m not good at act—”

  Camille threw her arm back and swung in a loose, dramatic fashion for Ember’s shoulder. Ember fought the urge to dodge, seeing a great many opportunities to do so. She had time to promise herself she’d later tell Camille not to do this during a real fight.

  When the blow landed on her shoulder, Ember staggered and bent, trying to make it seem as if the loud, obvious hit got her face, too. “Ouch.”

  Camille cried and screamed and babbled in such a high-pitched voice that dogs would be howling for miles around. Such an explosion of emotion was fascinating, but Ember couldn’t stop and watch. She backed away, hands up as Camille stumbled backward, too, still pointing and gibbering, and the eyes of the knights followed her.

  Fighting a grin, Ember turned and leaped nimbly into the tunnel mouth.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sydney knew she was going too fast, nearly stalking through the tunnel. The wound on her thigh, which hadn’t troubled her since yesterday, was starting to throb anew, and the company huffed as they tried to keep up with her. She wasn’t doing them any favors, especially the wounded.

  But she’d woken up as angry as she’d gone to sleep.

  She slowed and grabbed a fist-sized stone from the ground. Instead of striding so quickly, she turned it over and over in her hand, seeking to bleed away some of her tension.

  But it only brought back memories.

  The night before, the Hawk had tried to teach her how to create force instead of fire. It took less emotion, the Hawk claimed, and unless someone knew to look for the distinctive shimmer it created, no one would see it coming.

  And it could do more than burn. The Hawk had demonstrated after reiterating that destructive magic wasn’t her forte. She’d still managed to scoot a pebble across the ground just by putting her hand near it. Then she’d smirked.

  The look combined with the litany that heartfire was indeed magic had set Sydney’s chest to boiling. She’d called heartfire immediately when she focused her emotions.

  The Hawk had given the fire a bored glance. “Like that,” she’d said, “only completely different.”

  Sydney had tried again and again, but only fire had come until she’d finally stalked away angrily and had fallen asleep. She wanted to be happy about the outcome. Her failure to conjure force might mean the Hawk was wrong. Sydney’s power wasn’t magical, and heartfire had nothing to do with these destructive powers the Hawk kept mentioning. Sydney had never cast a spell in her life.

  Except the Hawk could conjure heartfire, too. Not as much as Sydney, and it took her longer to bring her emotions under control enough to focus, but she could do it.

  And it wasn’t a trick.

  Sydney had been using magic.

  Now, she squeezed the stone hard, anger and disbelief and a strange sort of grief building inside her.

  The stone crumbled. Sydney halted, staring at the dust and pebbles that cascaded from her fist. Her heart pounded, and her mouth went dry. It…must not have been a stone, must have been something fragile, like an egg.

  But she’d squeezed it hard, and it hadn’t broken until…

  “Nicely done,” the Hawk said.

  Sydney jumped and stared. “When did you get to the front of the column?”

  The Hawk strode past, then turned to the side as if to watch everyone. She had one hand in a pocket of her dress, but her posture seemed anything but casual. “I wanted to keep an eye on you since you seemed upset. With the amount of power you can conjure—”

  “Shut it.” Sydney stalked farther ahead, giving the knights watching them a placating smile. “Everything’s all right. I just need to have a few words with our friendly witch.” She outpaced the column quickly, listening with half an ear as one of the sergeants ordered that the column hang back a bit.

  The Hawk was still smirking, though she looked over her shoulder far more than she’d done when at the column’s rear.

  “Relax. They’re not going to hurt you,” Sydney said.

  “I’d be more worried about you hurting someone else.” She glanced at Sydney’s dirty hand. “You didn’t just move that stone. You shattered it.”

  “Nice to know you were spying on me.”

  “I was ready to stop you if need be.”

  Sydney glared, her anger fanning again. “Stop me from what? Throwing my knights around?”

  “Yes,” the Hawk said, her voice low and serious. She sighed. “Or worse. I’ve been thinking about it ever since last night. Your heartfire keeps to your body. You can’t hurt anyone else unless you touch them, but a force spell can affect everything around you.”

  “It was not a spell,” Sydney said through her teeth.

  “Luckily, all destructive magic happens in short bursts.” She tilted her head. “Though you can keep your heartfire going for quite a while. I thought it best to be prepared in case you start casting force the same way.”

  “I. Am not. Casting.” She felt the coil of power within her too late. Trying to channel it into heartfire didn’t work, as if her power was a river that had discovered a new path and would flood it no matter what she wanted. The air between her and the Hawk turned hazy, and Sydney reached, desperate to grab her before she was flung into the wall.

  The Hawk held a hand up, palm out, and her sleeve slipped down to her elbow, revealing something wrapped around her forearm. The force rippled around her as if ignoring her. When it slammed into the wall, the tunnel shuddered, then went still.

  The knights were staring. Sydney was, too, appalled beyond belief.

  “Everything’s fine, nothing to worry about,” the Hawk called. “I just cast a quick spell to…keep us safe.”

  Some of them muttered, but they seemed curious or mystified rather than angry. The Hawk took Sydney’s arm and marched her down the tunnel.

  Sydney went along, too many emotions tumbling through her to name. “What? I… You lied.”

  The Hawk snorted a laugh. “To save your ass.” She held up her arm again. “This is an anti-spell strap. It has effect-cancelling components like yew, cold iron, and leather from a spotted cow, all dyed under a new moon and infused with my life force.” She turned her hand this way and that as if admiring the thick black strap. “I think I’ll keep it on when I’m not casting, especially since Ember has my yew stick.”

  Sydney’s mouth worked as she tried to digest all that. Magic talk sickened her anyway, and now she had to hear about magic-blocking apparatuses that were necessary because of her? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  “My own fault. I shouldn’t have gone with force, but it’s supposed to be the easiest destructive magic to learn.” She shrugged. “You’re going to have to get a bloody grip on yourself.”

  Sydney’s anger kindled again, and she forced herself to breathe through it. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  “You bloody well did.”

  Yes, she had asked the Hawk to teach her, hadn’t she? “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t ask for power.” Also, not true. She’d trained to use heartfire, had reveled in it. “I didn’t want to be so fucking powerful.”

  “Lower your voice, please.” The Hawk cast another glance over her shoulder. “I don’t relish getting rushed by your team if you can’t control your buggery big power.”

  “They wouldn’t…they won’t…” But she’d been one of the people who’d taught them to mistrust magic, to hunt it down. They wouldn’t readily accept that they’d all been using it, that now Sydney knew even more ways to do so. “By the flame, what have I done?”

  The Hawk snorted again, but her expression seemed slightly sympathetic. “Don’t go all broody. What you’ve done is learned another skill to fight the enemy with. What does any of the rest matter?”

  “By the rest, do you mean my order? My calling? The thing I’ve dedicated my life to?” She felt as if she might start vomiting and never stop.

  “Camille said you were planning on rebelling anyway,” the Hawk whispered. “Using magic is something you’re going to have to address. You can’t go back to being ignorant.”

  That was true, and oh, how she wished it wasn’t.

  “Now,” the Hawk said with a no-nonsense tone, “you have to learn how to control it. Let’s do some breathing exercises.”

  Sydney remembered many of the same exercises from her knightly training, and that made her even sicker. Who’d introduced heartfire to the Knights of the Flame? Had they known it was magic all along? She couldn’t lay it at Sir Robert’s feet since the knights had been using heartfire for generations. But someone in the past had to have gotten the knowledge from somewhere.

  Sydney put the thought aside and breathed along with the Hawk, trying to forget who she was and where they were. One truth was paramount at the moment; she didn’t want to hurt any of her comrades.

  She was breathing and watching the shadows of the lanterns play on the rock around them, forcing herself to be calm. But someone stepped into the shadows ahead, and she nearly jumped out of her boots. Her sword was halfway out of the sheath before she recognized Ember.