Another half a foot. I took another step. This would be my last one.

I ripped the canteens of blood from my belt and squeezed their caps. Two small blades popped up. I stabbed them into my shoulders. The magic shivering in my blood broke free, ready to go. I pulled on it and it shot out of me in twin streams, turning into crimson mist. I hurled the contents of the canteens into the air, mixing it with my undiluted blood, and sprinted to the pit, bow in hand.

The ma’avir’s fire flared, and I saw his face within it, lips spread in a wide smile. He knew he had me. He thought I had chosen the easier death.

The blood mist rushed to me, coating me, sheathing my skin and my hair. I had clothed myself in blood armor just like this hundreds of times. It was as easy as breathing now. I just hoped it was strong enough.

I leaped into the pit. For an instant, I flew, weightless, as my blood and magic combined on my body. Then gravity hit, and I plunged like a rock, the ma’avir vanishing from view. A low laugh rolled through the room.

The blood armor snapped together, covering me from head to toe. Only my eyes and nostrils remained uncovered. I needed sight and air for the next few seconds.

My feet touched the spikes, heat burned me, but I kept running, my blood boots blunting the sharp points, shaping an arrow out of my blood as I ran. The edge loomed in front of me. I wasted a precious half-second to crouch and jumped straight up. The priest’s shocked face flashed before me, only twenty-five feet away.

A cone of fire roared toward me, impossibly hot.

I shut my eyes, letting the blood armor flow over my entire face. Deaf and blind, I took the shot.

I landed badly. My left ankle rolled under me, heat burning the soles of my feet through the armor.

There was no air. I held my breath and waited. It felt like I was being cooked alive. I had sprinted so hard. My body screamed for air.

I staggered forward. The few precious moments of oxygen my movement cost me would make no difference.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty.

Fuck it.

I let the armor slide off my face. It fell off in black chunks, crumbling in midair, its magic exhausted.

The ma’avir hung from the wall in front of me, no longer fire, but pale flesh. My arrow had pierced through his heart, or through the place it used to be.

Got him. I got him. “Why are you here? Why do you want the divine beast who killed the priest? Tell me!”

His light eyes focused on me. “I can see now. I understand why he wants you.”

“Why does he want the beast?”

“He who consumes the heart of the beast will be given a brief glimpse of the true future. Once seen, that future will not change.” The priest’s voice faded. “Forgive me. When you ascend to his side, I will serve you in the afterlife.”

His eyes rolled back in his head. I dropped to the ground, building a new face shield from what little blood I could still take.

The high priest detonated.

11

Tulip moved through the streets at a steady, even pace. The sky had lightened to a luminescent pre-dawn grey, and the ruined Midtown slid by on my left, dark against the pearlescent backdrop. My blood armor had turned coal-black, its magic gone. It crumbled away at the joints with the motions of the horse, breaking into black dust. The wind caught it and carried it off.

Everything hurt. I floated in a sea of pain, anchored by it to reality. The ride would end eventually. I just had to wait it out.

Tulip turned onto our street. Familiar landmarks crept by. The heap of rubble with a chunk of a wall tiled in bright turquoise sticking out of it. The tall oak tree where Turgan liked to sit. The edge of the yard. The front door.

I slipped off Tulip’s back in a shower of black specks. Untacking her took superhuman effort, but it had to be done. I settled her into the stable, made sure there was clean water, and willed myself to walk to the front door. I passed through the two outer wards, entered the house, and locked the door behind me. The air smelled of herbs, a thick pungent aroma. Conlan had found my aunt’s purification bundle and burned it in the brazier to cover up his scent. If any shapeshifters showed up, the smell would make them nose blind.

My brother was amazing.

I dragged myself to my sanctuary.

Turning the key in the lock hurt.

The door slid open, revealing the familiar limestone floor and columns. Water murmured in the channel, flowing slowly.

I shut the door of the sanctuary behind me, heard the thick metal bar of the lock slide into place, and finally let go. The blood armor cracked, losing what little integrity it had left. I walked down the path slowly, and as I moved, the last chunks of my armor fell off me, shattering on the floor into clouds of dark dust.

I zeroed in on the metal rose on my desk. Almost there. Just a few more steps.

Almost.

My fingers closed about the cold stem. I plucked the flower from the vase with my ruined fingers. Made it.

The sack of herbs was next, an ordinary bag with five pounds’ worth of a priceless herbal mix, tucked away into the corner of the third shelf. When you want to hide something precious, put it in plain sight.

I carried the bag and the rose into my bedroom. The water in the bath lay placid. The stream kept it filled, and the magic coils buried under it made sure the water stayed warm when the magic was up.

I put the rose on the edge of the tub and emptied the contents of the sack into the bath. Herbs, flowers, and powders tumbled into the water, releasing swirls of blue, then red. Dried leaves and blossoms unfurled slowly. Ground blue thistle, shaved mandrake, Solomon’s seal, pasqueflower, goldenseal, sage, ginseng, lavender, valerian, French mallow… All treated with magic, carefully processed, and prepared for me by my aunt. I had just dumped twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth into the tub.

The mirror on the side wall had no mercy. The entire front of me was fire-engine-red. The armor had kept the damage contained, but now blisters broke open all over my face and neck.

I pulled a knife off my belt and cut through my T-shirt. My chest and stomach were a constellation of blisters. The heat had cooked me like a lobster in the shell.

I sliced through my bra. It came apart. Pain jolted me, and I whimpered. I just had to hold on long enough to get out of my clothes.

The boots were the worst. The soles of my feet were gaping raw sores with charred edges, all skin gone. I pulled the tie out of my hair, releasing the bun. My hair fell around me. The armor had protected it from direct fire, but even if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be bald for long.