Page 109 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

It’s heating every inch of my skin, making me feel like I’m out there, battling the fire myself.

My power ebbs and flows, circling my chest, and I imagine it saying, I do what I wish.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my trembling hand. My magic could work for hours more. But my body? I need a break. I need water.

“There.” I finish wrapping Welm’s forearm. He got too close to the fire when attempting to douse it with well water. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you, Elara.” The burly soldier rises and heads back toward the fire, where the shouts and screams have barely lessened in the time since I arrived.

I rise on shaky legs and look around for a waterskin.

A tug yanks my chest, insistent.

I turn. A gasp tears from my throat.

Fatigue fades to the back of my mind, and I rush toward Anton, who is holding up Ferria. My sister’s head lolls to the side, eyes fluttering closed.

“What happened?” I grab her other arm, hooking it over my shoulder to help carry her to the makeshift triage center in front of the tailor’s shop.

My magic immediately flows into her, searching for the cause of her condition.

“Exhaustion,” Anton clips out.

Dirt, ash, and sweat mar his handsome face, but otherwise, he looks fine. Strong, even.

My magic confirms his assessment. No smoke suffocates Ferria’s lungs. No burns sting her flesh. She’s simply tired. My power can’t do anything about that.

I hurry to my satchel and take out a liquid stimulant. When I return, Anton has set Ferria on his discarded jacket. He tips her head back to pour water down her throat.

“S-stop.” She coughs and sputters, weakly swatting his hand away. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice is hard, harder than I’ve ever heard from the even-tempered apprentice. His eyes slide to mine and narrow as he thrusts the waterskin towards me. “Neither of you is. You two can’t drain yourselves. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

I take the waterskin and drink deeply. The cool liquid hurts as it runs down my scratchy throat. Following my thought, magic glides to my esophagus and soothes the worst of the discomfort.

Thank you.

The power flutters softly.

“Anton!” a soldier with even more sweat and grime covering his face calls from the end of the street, closer to the flames that don’t look any smaller than they did when I first arrived.

“I’ll be right back.” Anton places a firm hand on my sister’s shoulder and meets my eyes. Then he stands and jogs over to the older man.

I wait until he’s out of earshot to speak.

“Why in Myrissie’s name are you so tired?” I invoke the Goddess’’ name in a sharp whisper.

“I tried to call back the fire,” she mumbles so low that I’m not sure I hear her correctly. She wiggles the fingers on one hand. A weak spark ignites, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. “I failed.”

“Are you crazy?” I gasp and lean forward to hide her hands with my body. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I was…trying to help.” Her eyes crack open.

Red lines cut through the white.

A loud snap shoots through the air, followed by a chorus of screams. A fresh billow of smoke rises into the air.

Men around us race toward the noise. Anton glances at me and Ferria before the soldier speaking to him grabs his arm and drags him back to the fray, as well.