Breathe, Thana told herself. Nothing would be served by yelling again. “Something about that moment, then.” She thought back to the garden but recalled nothing out of the ordinary.

  Except her own abilities had seemed enhanced, too. She let her thoughts drift, thinking aloud as she always did with a difficult problem. “You felt compelled. I felt stronger. For someone like you, incredibly powerful under normal circumstances, some…special condition might force you to use a pyramid. Where the same condition made my pyramids more powerful.” But the reason still eluded her. “Is that what happened to the other pyradistés? The murder? The explosions?”

  “Murder? I heard some gossip, but—”

  Thana waved for her to hush. “But did the pyramids explode without warning? Or were their creators compelled to set them off? But that wouldn’t explain the queen’s—” She cut herself off. That one was a secret.

  “The queen’s what?” Sylph asked, a bit of emotion in her voice, as if she’d thaw for a piece of juicy gossip.

  Thana shook her head. “Did you see anyone out of place in the garden?” Sylph recited everyone she’d seen so quickly, Thana stared. “Did you memorize the guest list?”

  “No, I have a good memory for faces, and I know what every noble looks like.” She said it without crowing, a mere recitation of fact. Just like the tone she used when speaking about peasant magic.

  Unable to avoid twisting that knife just a little, Thana asked, “What about the servants?”

  Sylph’s mouth tightened, the closest she’d come to an actual frown. “I remember their faces but not their names. Is that enough to escape your derision?”

  “Maybe,” Thana muttered, embarrassed again. “Were all the servants dressed in the palace livery?”

  “Those I saw, yes.” Her lips quirked now, a hint of a smile. “Did you not notice them at all?”

  Someone had tried to serve her a drink, but the face was a blank spot in her mind. “I…”

  Sylph took another step, close enough to touch. “You ignore the servants? Too far above them?”

  “I ignore everyone, high and low, so there.” How in the spirits’ names did this woman bring her blood to boil so quickly?

  That tiny smile was still in place, the most open Thana had seen her since she’d been terrified in the garden.

  “Until I know what happened there,” Thana said after a deep breath, “I can’t help you contain your power. You might feel compelled again, and I don’t know any pyramids that could keep someone from using their power.” Maybe a modified version of the pyramid that kept the Umbriels from presenting their Fiendish Aspect, but she couldn’t mention that.

  She’d become the keeper of many secrets lately, and it weighed on her.

  Sylph sagged as if Thana had destroyed her dreams. Thana couldn’t resist touching her forearm lightly, a safe distance from the familiarity of a shoulder pat and the intimacy of holding hands. When Sylph glanced at her hand, Thana went to release her, but Sylph put her fingers over Thana’s, a recognition that touched Thana as much as it frightened her. She dropped her arm and tried to think of what else to say.

  “They’ll shun me,” Sylph said softly, looking at the floor. “If they find out about the…pyramids, the nobles will no longer see me as one of their own.”

  Thana fought the urge to grumble. So she wouldn’t be invited to parties any longer? Thana would have been celebrating.

  “My father will disown me.”

  “What?” Thana’s mind reeled. “Really?”

  Sylph nodded, and the little smile turned sad when their eyes met again. “You were honest with me, so I thought I might try it with you. Not that I’m usually a liar. Most times, I say nothing.”

  A habit Thana knew she should practice herself, but she couldn’t do it now. “The duke wouldn’t disown you. He can’t, not if he…” She’d been about to say, “loves you,” but Sylph seemed so sad and certain. And resigned. No matter what her father’s feelings were, she clearly believed he’d throw her out with nothing.

  Well, that was worse than not being invited to parties. Thana drew herself up, tired of the emotional gamut she’d run this day but determined to help. Strange that a barely emotive noble could put her through so much. “Can you feel the pyramids sitting here? If you’re able to sense them without the aid of a detection pyramid, like some pyradistés can, you can at least turn and go in the other direction.”

  Sylph’s smile was a little wider, grateful, and she glanced at the table. “Should we…stand away or something?”

  Not a bad thought, considering the power she’d managed to pull from the light pyramid. “Let’s start on the other side of the room. Then we can determine just how close you have to be in order to sense them.”

  They moved as far away as they could, nearly on top of some sheet-covered furniture. Sylph stared at the pyramid table with a worried look.

  “Relax,” Thana said. “Remember the way the light pyramid felt.”

  Sylph’s intense face relaxed. As she breathed out a contented sigh, a burst of flame engulfed the table with a loud crack. Thana fell back amidst billowing smoke and a blast of heat, panic overtaking her as fire devoured the furniture and climbed the wall to lick at the ceiling.

  Chapter Six

  Sylph came out of her pyramid stupor slowly.

  The wall was on fire.

  She blinked, but the flames remained, roaring and spewing heat and smoke. She remembered the pyramids on the table shining like diamonds before she’d focused on one that held flickering flame at its heart, contained destruction waiting for freedom.

  She’d set it loose.

  “Get down!” Thana jerked on her arm, hauling her around and sideways.

  Sylph fell to one knee. Jarring pain vibrated up her leg. She gasped, and smoke burned down her throat, searing her chest into a coughing fit.

  “Stay near the floor, the cleaner air,” Thana said, her own voice ragged. “Where’s the door?”

  The door, yes. They needed to get out. The room seemed a maze around the dark smoke and crackling flame. Was the door on one end of the left wall or in the middle? Her eyes stung and bathed her cheeks in tears. She crawled left, tugging Thana with her.

  “Wait,” Thana gasped, choking.

  No, they needed to stop talking and start trying to get out.

  Thana sagged, coughing. “It’s…not…”

  “Come on.” A tinkling sound filled her ears. A bell? No, a harsher, crunching sound, nearly covered by the fire, but it had to be coming from the hall. They were close.

  “Wait!” Thana’s cry was rough, and she caught Sylph’s arm in a grip like stone.

  Stone. Yes. If she could make a new hole in the wall…

  A memory came floating back as if billowed by the flames. The pyramid in the garden had pulled her in, but it hadn’t felt right. She’d felt herself reach but not with her arms. Her mind had gone tumbling into the pyramid, embraced by its power. She’d wanted her pain to end, so she’d changed the pyramid, and the wall had come for her.

  And there were more pyramids in this room. She reached again as she crawled.

  Tendrils of smoke parted, revealing a swath of stone before her and the glitter of glass. Covered in cracks, screeching and tinkling, it was the crunching bell she’d heard before.

  She’d pulled herself and Thana deeper into the room, all the way to the window.

  Despair tried to choke her along with the smoke, but she ground her teeth and reached again. There. She had a pyramid in the grasp of her mind.

  She demanded it change itself into a now familiar mold.

  One that could move stone.

  The wall shuddered, and the grind of stone overpowered the sound of the fire. The glass shattered, a glittering fountain cascading away from the warped wall. The smoke whooshed outside, and the fire roared in a gout over their heads, but the path to the door became clear.

  Thana tugged her around and into a crouch. Sylph let herself be led, forcing herself to release the pyramid as they reached the exit. The opening door let smoke into the hall until Thana threw it closed behind them. Sylph sagged to her knees again, coughing, fighting the urge to retch.

  “Come on,” Thana said hoarsely. “We need to get help and get you out of here.”

  Fear fought through Sylph’s exhaustion and amazement. She stumbled after as Thana yelled, “Fire!” They slipped past the flow of people heading for the disaster.

  In an empty corridor, they slowed. “What…” Sylph bent double, coughing. Her head pounded, and her eyes wouldn’t stop watering. “How…” She couldn’t speak more than a single word without hacking again. Spirits curse her, she’d done this, created this nightmare.

  No, it was contained. No one was hurt.

  Yet.

  “They’ll put out the fire, don’t worry,” Thana whispered.

  Sylph tried to breathe without coughing. Her hands and clothes were covered in soot. Tear tracks cut through the dark patches on Thana’s pale face. Sylph took her hand. “All right?”

  Thana nodded. “You?”

  “Sorry, so sorry.” She closed her eyes and fought her panic. She was not only a pyradisté; she was a menace. Being disowned was too good for her.

  “It’s all right. You ended up saving us.”

  Sylph opened her eyes to a look of such compassion, she almost sobbed. She wanted to be held but didn’t know how to ask.

  “Let’s clean up,” Thana said. “And you plead complete ignorance of the fire. Until I can figure something out, stay away from pyramids, especially the royal halls.”

  Sylph nodded, though her current fear was for more than herself. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all an Umbriel. She would claim illness and stay in her rooms for a few days. Her hoarse voice could serve as proof of a head cold.

  “This way.” Thana peeked down halls as she went, gesturing for Sylph to follow. She led them farther from the fire and paused at an open door near the courtiers’ rooms, a dangerous place to linger if they wanted to avoid gossip.

  After a glance into the room, Thana tugged Sylph inside and over to a washbasin. “Here.” She grabbed a cloth and dipped it into the water before scrubbing at Sylph’s face.

  Sylph nearly sputtered, both at the roughest bath she’d ever experienced and at the used water. There had never been so many firsts in one day. She focused on Thana’s frown of concentration and blocked out everything else. She was almost sorry when Thana finally stepped back and nodded, her dark eyes sparkling with a job well done. “There.”

  Sylph reached for the cloth, more than willing to reciprocate and caress Thana’s face, but Thana shook her head and pointed to the basin. “Hands.”

  “What about you?” Sylph asked as she washed, wincing at the pain in her chest, her throat.

  “Everyone expects me to look weird and half-exploded.” She only wiped her hands clean and dragged her wet palms down her face, making Sylph want to offer a handkerchief, but she hurried out before Sylph could speak.

  Thana pointed the way toward the nobles’ apartments. “Remember, stay put.”

  “Thank you,” Sylph managed to blurt before Thana could hurry away. The brief, embarrassed smile she received made her want to move for an embrace again, but she hurried toward her apartments as stealthily as she could.

  Her maid was thankfully absent when she arrived, and she undressed and washed more thoroughly before hiding her sooty clothes in a wad under the bed, brushing out her hair, and donning a dressing gown.

  She’d just settled in the sitting room with a pounding heart and a novel she was far too distracted to read when her father came in.

  He stopped at the sight of her and frowned. “Are you ill?”

  “A touch,” she said, glad her voice still sounded raspy.

  His brows lifted. “Did you send for the physick?”

  “Oh no. It’s nothing serious.”

  When he nodded and sat, she wondered if he’d asked out of concern for his heir or his own health. No matter which, he would never do a thing like bathe her face, no matter the reason. “Did you hear of the fire?”

  Her heart thundered now, but she made herself shake her head and hoped her expression conveyed wonder and not terror.

  It must have done both because he lifted a hand. “There’s nothing to fear. It was doused quickly.”

  “Good gracious. Was anyone hurt?”

  “No one of consequence.”

  Her hands ached, and when she glanced down, she saw her knuckles white around the book. In her father’s mind, Thana was a person of no consequence. “Was anyone hurt…at all?”

  His look was pure amazement, but she couldn’t help asking. He sighed, and surprise changed to pity. “You shouldn’t think such things, Sylph. Being kind to the peasantry will make you well-loved but soft. When they take advantage of you, you won’t have the respect and fear to shield you.”

  Fear and respect weren’t the same thing. And respect could be won many ways. The words pounded in her brain, but she couldn’t speak them. It had taken all her courage to ask if anyone at all was hurt, and she hadn’t even gotten an answer.

  When a knock sounded, he called, “Enter.”

  His stoic valet slipped inside. “Court rumor paints a pyradisté as a reason for the fire, Your Grace.”

  “Of course,” Sylph’s father said with a snort. His look was pure prejudice, even though Sylph knew the rumor was true. “Who else could it have been?

  “Which one?” It wasn’t until they looked at her that she realized she’d spoken aloud. She bit her lip. She only knew one pyradisté, the only one who counted.

  “Does it matter?” her father asked.

  The valet cleared his throat, but his eyes remained half-lidded, as if he was a moment from falling asleep. “They say it’s the queen’s pyradisté, my lady.”

  Ringing filled Sylph’s ears, drowning her father’s scathing response. Her legs twitched as if desperate to run. She had to stand, causing her father to glance at her again as she paced behind the couch, clutching her book. She only hoped he’d put any odd behavior down to illness.

  “Oh, Sylph, calm down,” he said with a condescending edge. “We’re safe here. The queen should have her servant on a tighter leash.” He sniffed. “Even if she didn’t cause the fire, she should be put to use snuffing this other pyradisté nonsense before we’re all burned in our beds.”

  So much for keeping calm. She almost chucked her book at him. The very idea suggested that the boldness of the morning hadn’t completely abandoned her.

  Her father stood. “Stay here, daughter. Get well. I’ll see what I can do to straighten this nonsense out.” He smiled, a wan attempt at affection after Thana’s open expressions. “If you need anything, I’m sure your maid will be along shortly. Come along, Hornby.” His valet gave Sylph a more sympathetic look and followed in her father’s footsteps.

  Sylph sagged into a chair, fighting the panic beating inside her. Her father was looking for someone to blame. He could easily turn all the nobles against even the monarch’s pyradisté, just as Sylph had threatened to do earlier.

  She would have to apologize for that, too.

  And she knew how.

  Thana had to be warned.

  * * *

  Thana lined up arguments in her head as she strode toward the queen’s apartment. She had to report the fire, had to report that it was a noble who’d started it, but she would stress that Sylph was untrained and not at fault.

  She nodded as she passed the guards who were always stationed just outside the royal quarters, telling herself she had to remain strong in the face of Queen Earnhilt’s temper. Sylph and her father could be removed to the countryside so Sylph couldn’t do any more damage to the palace. But what would they tell her father? What if he refused to go or just threw his daughter out?

  Thana gnawed her lip. Earnhilt could take care of Sylph, pay for her lodging, her training. Thana would stress that Sylph’s stone-moving power could prove quite useful if she learned to control it. With her strength, she might be able to erect buildings by herself. Surely Earnhilt would see the value in that.

  When Thana answered the call to enter the queen’s chambers, she found Earnhilt pulling her boots on. “Have you heard of this fire in the palace?” Earnhilt said.

  Thana shut her teeth on that very report. “Yes, Majesty, I was just—”

  “Rumor has another spirits-cursed pyradisté behind it. No offense.” She didn’t look up as she buckled her sword belt around her trim waist.

  “Um, none taken.” Though there was a little and not just for her sake.

  “Gunnar is in the city checking on some other tales of pyradistés gone mad. I suppose we’ll add this one to his pile. With me.” She strode out the door, and Thana had to hurry to catch up.

  “It was a pyradisté,” Thana said quickly. “I was there.” Earnhilt gave her a calculating glance. She held up her hands and added, “It wasn’t me. She’s untrained, and I was trying to help her. She’s a noble, and—”

  Earnhilt stopped and ran a hand down her face. “Oh, spirits curse me, a fucking noble?”

  “Yes, she—”

  “As if we didn’t have enough problems.” She marched on, only pausing again when she reached the smoke-ravaged hallway near where the fire started. Thana stayed on her heels, all arguments shattered under the battering ram that was the queen’s personality.

  Earnhilt sighed loudly as she looked around the corner and saw the room itself, the stone and wood blackened by soot. “Dangerous, is she?”

  “Very,” Thana said without thinking. “Powerful, that is. Her power could be very useful if—”

  “No help for it, then, if she’s going to keep setting the castle alight and setting off pyramids in the royal quarters.”

  “I don’t think that was her,” Thana said, but Earnhilt didn’t appear to be listening. Thana wondered how much trouble she’d get into if she shook the queen’s muscular arm. Not from the guard. Earnhilt could rip Thana to shreds. “If we can convince her father—”